


Alien vs Self

by neverfeltlesscool, Pigeonsplotinsecrecy



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: (not too heavy on that), Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse, Bulimia, Child Abuse, Depression, Eating Disorders, Established Relationship, M/M, Maria is bi, Michael's childhood, Not Canon Compliant, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, a close to reality au, and is bi buddies with Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-01-16 11:40:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverfeltlesscool/pseuds/neverfeltlesscool, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy
Summary: Michael and Alex have been dating for three months, and have gotten to know each other’s pasts, but there’s still one secret that Michael hasn’t told Alex, or anyone really: he makes himself throw up sometimes. He isn’t sure why he does it or why he refuses to stop, but he does know that he can’t tell anyone about it, especially his boyfriend. If Alex knew, he’d try to make Michael stop, and Michael doesn’t want to—can’t—stop.





	1. Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> TW: This does deal with graphic and explicit eating disorder behaviors, so if that, or anything it entails, will be upsetting to you, please steer clear. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic. Also, please heed the tags, which will be updating as we go (but the major ones should be there now).

* * *

**Part 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Bad Habits**

* * *

Michael hunched his body over the toilet, feeling bile rising through his throat, degrading his body with its acid. He pushed his fingers deeper into his mouth, massaging his gag reflex, and the food came up easily, his stomach primed for vomiting with copious amounts of beer and whiskey.

While he’d barely tasted it going down, the food tasted acrid coming back up, but that wasn’t going to stop him from expelling it from his digestive system. He needed it out and to feel the emptiness that would follow. Puking was draining but rewarding work.

He could have used his powers to bring it all up, but there was something about the manual way that appealed to him. Using his powers felt like a cop out, and like an easy fix that he didn’t deserve. He wasn’t human, but he was raised to act like one. Though, he did use his powers when it was an emergency, or he needed to be quick and efficient.

Shoving his fingers down his throat a few more times, he finished his business. He wiped his hands off with toilet paper, flushed, and left the bathroom stall at the Wild Pony. He pushed past another guy to get to the sink. “Rough night, buddy?” the guy said with a knowing look, and his smarmy face made Michael want to fight him, but Alex was waiting, and Michael was trying to be better at managing his temper. _I’m better than that._

“You got that right,” he replied with his characteristic smile and turned the sink to as hot as it would go.

Michael felt the scalding hot water remove the filth from his hands as he lathered the soap, trying to regain his composure. His hands were bright red as he washed, and his fingers shook. Finally, he turned off the sink, drying his hands on his jeans, and running his still damp hand through his curly hair. He hurried out the bathroom feeling calmer with the lightness of his stomach, but the shame still lingered.

Body feeling weak, Michael slipped into his empty barstool, looking down at the red teeth marks on his hands. “You okay, Guerin? You were gone awhile.” Alex put his hand against Michael’s arm, rubbing his thumb up and down Michael’s forearm, “And you look a little green.” _I _am _an alien, _Michael wanted to quip, but Maria was right there. Michael melted into the touch. Alex’s hand was soft against Michael’s skin.

Michael shrugged nonchalantly like what he had just done was nothing, and given how often he did it, it was nothing. _Just another part of my day. _“Just drank a little too much I guess.” The special headache reserved for post-purge was starting to build, sharp pangs with an overall dull ache. He took a sip of Alex’s water. Hydration always helped. Post-purge care was a lot like treating a hangover.

“You didn’t even drink that much,” Maria chimed in from over the bar. “You becoming a lightweight on me now that you’re a taken man?” she asked with a playful grin. She and Michael were friends now, just friends. It had taken time for the three of them to untangle their messy relationships, but now, the lines were clear. Maria was a good friend to have around. Bi-buddies, they called themselves.

Michael forced a laugh, even though he was feeling like shit. He had to live up to his reputation. “Never.” He patted his stomach. “All that food just really put me over the edge.”

“Yeah, you really packed it in,” Maria observed, her faced looked contemplative. He hoped she wasn’t having a psychic moment. “You always do when you drink.”

“What can I say? I’m a hungry drunk,” Michael said lightly, resisting a yawn. _Puking is exhausting, _he thought. He clenched his teeth as a pain in his head struck him. He tried to smile through it, but Alex catches the moment, looking worried.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Maria said, not sounding so sure. She could tell something else was up with him, but she had no idea what. Michael had always been a bit of a mystery.

Alex caressed Michael’s back and rose to his feet, stretching his body and rubbing at the prosthetic leg. “Well, I’m tired.” He put Michael’s hat on Michael’s head. “I think it’s time for us to go home.” By home, Alex meant the cabin. They had yet to officially move in together, but they spent most nights there.

They bid their goodbyes to Maria and moved towards the door. Michael slung an arm around Alex.

“What would I do without you, Alex?”

“You smell like puke,” Alex told him, but he didn’t push Michael away. He fished Michael’s keys out of his pocket and got into the driver’s seat of Michael’s truck after depositing Michael into the passenger seat.

“You get drunk a lot,” Alex commented when they were on the road. The truth was Michael got buzzed a lot, buzzed enough to make the puking easier, but he only let people think that he was the town drunk. He was over the days of bar fights and nights in the drunk tank.

“I’m not drunk.”

Alex gave him a look as if to say, “Yeah, right.”

“I’m not,” Michael persisted stubbornly as Alex pulled onto the road.

“Is this a problem we have to talk about?” _Not the problem you think. _Michael knew he misused alcohol, but drinking wasn’t the thing that tore him up inside. It wasn’t alcohol he wanted when he was upset or self-deprecating or out of control. It wasn’t alcohol that consumed his every thought. He didn’t wake up wanting to get wasted. He woke up thinking of food, and he didn’t stop until he went to sleep, and sometimes not even then. He’d dream about food, have nightmares revolved around it, and he couldn’t hide from it.

“It’s not a problem.”

Alex sighed, dark eyes gazing at Michael through the darkness between them. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I know,” Michael said, not sure he knew what being okay felt like.


	2. History of Disorder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's history with his disorder is explored.

* * *

**History of Disorder**

* * *

From the time he was little, food had always caused Michael anxiety. He’d spent many hours thinking about it, wondering and dreaming about his next meal. Life in foster care meant that plenty of times, Michael didn’t know when he’d get his next meal. His foster parents had been negligent at best, so he knew from a young age that he couldn’t trust the adults in his life.

The addicts would forget or didn’t care enough to feed him, and the fundamentalists would send Michael to bed without dinner so that he could learn to be holier, punishing him for his gluttony, or whatever other sin he’d committed.

_You must be empty if you want to learn to be holy, _they would say, and it always felt hypocritical, but Michael internalized the sentiment anyway, wondering if going to bed hungry would make him a better person. _You’ll never learn if you continue to be gluttonous. We’ll teach you obedience, boy. _He learned question them would only get him into trouble.

Not knowing when his next meal would be, Michael began to hoard food, shoving it under his bed and under his clothes in his drawers. His locker as school was never used for books, but it was instead packed full of snacks. Max and Isobel made fun of him for it asking, “What do you need all that for?” like he was crazy for having it, and Michael would laugh it off, acting like he merely had a big appetite. “I’m a growing boy, after all,” he would say, and quickly divert the conversation to something unrelated to him. 

The twins knew Michael’s life wasn’t sunshine and rainbows, but he wasn’t about to give them the most gruesome details. He didn’t want their pitiful looks or feeble attempts at trying to help him. Most of all, he didn’t want to talk about what he had been through. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to tell anyone those stories.

When he got hungry, Michael would have food if he needed it, but he was careful with what he ate. He rationed his stash, making sure it could last him long enough that he would survive an indefinite period without food.

Somedays, he had so little food that his hands would begin to shake, and he’d get dizzy. He’d tide himself over with packets of chips and cookies, which would soothe his hungry body. Food always tasted best after hungry. Often, once he began eating, it was hard to stop, his body wanting anything it could get its hands on, but he had to control himself. Self-control would be what kept him alive, he reminded himself.

Later, he’d escaped the foster care system, living in his truck, but his issue of being hungry persisted. His ability to get food was still erratic, and he had more money of his own but not enough for the safe environment he craved. Michael was always hungry. It didn’t matter if his body physically needed food, his mind had a compulsive need to have it whenever it was available. When he had it, he’d stuff his face like an animal preparing for winter.

The puking, well, he didn’t mean for that to start, and it didn’t make much sense to him that it did, that someone worried about being hungry would purposely get rid of his food, but before he knew it, he was sticking his finger down his throat daily, and he was powerless to stop.

The vomiting had started when he was seventeen, and the process went the same every time. Hungry and craving sustenance, Michael would shoplift candy and chips from the store. He’d go to his truck and eat the evidence of his wrongdoing as quickly as he could, guilt roiling in his stomach with each bite.

As he sat with his guilt, he’d wish that he’d never eaten it, feeling too rotund and weighted down by his feelings. _I wish it would go away, _he’d think, and then, he realized he could make it go away. He could stick his finger down his throat and pretend the food had never been there. He could get a little relief from the bad he had done. _The evil I do just by existing. _Because that’s what he was doing, wasn’t it? Michael was just a kid trying to survive, but to survive, he had to do things that were wrong. _You must atone for your sins, _he remembered being told.

Throwing up gave Michael temporary relief, but it didn’t make all the shitty parts of his life go away. It didn’t make him stop being hungry, but it let him manage his feelings in some sort of way. It let him punish himself when there was no adult in his life to tell him right from wrong. It gave him a warped sense of order in a chaotic world.

After a while, he was eating just to throw up and felt guilty for putting anything into his body, feeling an illogical urge to keep his stomach empty. _I don’t deserve food. I’d be better if I was empty. _He’d go hungry for a while until he couldn’t take it anymore. Then, he’d stuff his face until he could physically contain no more, and he’d bring it all back up.

In the years that followed, Michael continued his bad habit on and off for over ten years. He’d go a few months here or a year go without resorting to any eating disorder behaviors, but he always returned to purging when things got bad in life or when they got scarily safe, which caused Michael to wonder when the other shoe would drop.

Now, Michael’s relationship with Alex was good. They’d sorted through their shit and were doing better than ever, but there was still that little voice in the back of Michael’s mind convincing him that things were _too stable, _that he was somehow being lured into a false sense of security, and that if he wasn’t careful, he’d go back to being that kid living alone in a truck.

He’d begun hoarding food again and fixating on it. It’d taken over his mind in a way that it hadn’t in months, back when the symptoms of his disorder had been dull and manageable.

Michael knew the damage this secret was going to do. It would make everyday tasks—eating, working, thinking—hard. Worst of all, it was going to interfere with Michael’s relationship with Alex because hiding a secret as big as this didn’t bode well for romance.

Yet, there was no escaping it, and Michael didn’t even know how to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hope you liked this. Comment if you have any thoughts on this chapter. Can't wait to get to some of the later chapters, which will be quite intense, but first I must ease build some things! Thanks for reading!


	3. Trashy TV and Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael watch TV

* * *

**Trashy TV and Chill**

* * *

Michael’s head was propped on Alex’s shoulder as they watched their guilty pleasure TV show, a sitcom about a group of wealthy women being thrown into a mansion to fend for themselves for ten weeks, forced to do their own chores and complete challenges.

Moments like these were what Michael loved most about his relationship with Alex. He loved the two of them being able to hang around and simply enjoy each other’s company.

The TV blared as Michael savored the feel of Alex’s soft t-shirt against his cheek. _Domestic Divas _was a vapid show, but Michael and Alex liked to watch it and laugh at the women’s shenanigans. It was one of those silly but meaningful things they shared.

“This is so stupid,” Michael said as two women started arguing about whose turn it was to make dinner (definitely Shelley’s).

Alex smirked a little, amused. “You love it.”

Michael shrugged as if to say, “Maybe so.” He leaned his face up towards Alex’s, easing into a kiss.

“What was that for?” Alex asked, eyebrows raised.

“Sometimes an alien’s just got to kiss his super hot boyfriend.”

“Is that so?” Alex asked, leaning in for another kiss. “I think you’re the one who runs hot, Guerin.”

Michael wanted to say something else, maybe kiss Alex a little more, but his thoughts were interrupted by the show, derailing the moment of romance.

One of the younger women in the house, Cassie, was on the screen talking about her frenemy, Victoria. “Vicky makes herself throw up. We all know it,” Cassie, said in a matter of a fact voice, and Michael froze. He suddenly wanted to flee the couch or flip the TV off, but Alex would think it was weird if he did anything, so he tried not to move at all. _I need to pretend like this doesn’t bother me. Act normal. _Michael couldn’t wait for the scene to be over; yet, he was also intrigued by it, wanting to learn more, suddenly feeling connected to Victoria.

“I heard her throwing up last night, actually. She can’t seem to control herself around food. She leaves none for the rest of us.” Cassie rolled her eyes, “It’s such a waste that she doesn’t even keep it down.”

“Fuck,” Michael said. His mind kicked into overdrive. The mere mention of throwing up made Michael’s skin crawl, and he felt exposed.

“You got that right,” Alex agreed. “I don’t know why women feel the need to do that.” _Women, this is something women do. Where does that leave me?_

Michael was unsure what to say. “People do crazy things.”

“It’s just so wasteful.” A pang of guilt hit Michael as he thought of all the food he’d wasted by purging.

“I know,” Michael agreed, filled with self-hatred. “It’s such a waste of perfectly good food.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Alex said, “It sucks that the food is wasted, but the awful part is all the wasted time and energy. Can you imagine how much you’d miss out on by not keeping down your food?” Michael thought of all the holidays and social events that were ruined by the anxiety he had around food. People didn’t realize how social eating was until eating became a war.

“Lots of people have obstacles they deal with daily, and this is no different. It’s not that big of a deal.” _It can’t be a big deal or I’d have to do something about it. _

Alex turned to Michael sharply, letting Michael’s head fall from Alex’s shoulder. “Do you have no sympathy for her?” _Oh great, I made him mad. _

“Of course, I do,” Michael said. _If anyone in this room could understand her it would be me. “_I just meant that It’s not good, but it’s something people do.”

“Oh, okay,” Alex said, voice calmer. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know anyone who has done it?” Michael asked, not sure why he couldn’t let the conversation go.

“Do you?”

Michael shook his head, “Nope, no one.”

“You remember Kenzie Davis from high school?” Alex asked.

“The cheerleader?”

Alex nodded. “She was always nice to me when other people weren’t, and I heard that she was bulimic. I don’t know though. It could have been a rumor some mean girl made up. Maybe she was just thin.”

“That’s pretty gross, isn’t it?” Michael asked, wanting to gage Alex’s reaction. _Would Alex be disgusted by me if I knew I did the same thing?_

Alex looked surprised at the question. “It’s sad more than anything. She’s hurting herself. For what? To be beautiful?”

“You really think she does it to be beautiful?” _I don’t do it because I care about how I look. I’m not sure why I do it, but it isn’t because I care about how I look. I know that. _

“I don’t know, Michael. It’s hard to say why anyone does anything. All I know is that she needs psychological help.”

“Psychological help?” Michael asked, throat dry, “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme.” Michael didn’t think that kind of thing was necessary. _Maybe for real problems but not for inconsequential ones like mine. _

“She has an eating disorder, Guerin. I think it’s probably just the right amount of extreme.”

“She’s not crazy,” Michael argued.

Alex chuckled. “All the woman in that house have to be a little crazy. No one in their right mind would sign up for this show.”

“No, I mean what she’s doing, the throwing up. It’s not crazy,” Michael said without thinking. He backtracked, “I mean, I don’t get why she does it, but she has to have some kind of reason. People don’t do that kind of stuff without having a reason. Right?”

“I guess there’s a reason, but I can’t imagine any reason good enough to make myself puke.”

“What if you had to do it to save my life?”

“That’s not even a realistic scenario, Michael.”

“But would you do it then?”

Alex gave Michael’s hand a squeeze, “As many times as I needed to.”

“I’d do it too.” _I do it anyway. _“But I’d hate every second.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this. Thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment if you have any thoughts you'd like to share.


	4. Binge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has a bad night.

* * *

**Binge**

* * *

After Alex had gone to bed, Michael had snuck out of the cabin to his own little home separate from prying eyes. He missed the warmth and comfort of being close to Alex because the airstream felt like a prison. Nowadays, he only went there to do the things he needed to keep secret. It was an isolated bubble missing all the people that gave Michael’s life vibrancy.

Michael sat in the airstream, surrounded by food, and he hated himself for it. _Why do I have no self-control? Why can’t I just be normal?_

He knew there was no stopping what he was about to do. He was in too much of a trance, already preparing for the coming feast, rolling up his sleeves and filling his water bottle before sitting down with all his convenience store finds.

It felt comforting to be surrounded by the bleak blackness of night in Roswell. The lighting was dim, just enough for Michael to see, and be horrified by, what he was doing. The stars barely twinkled in the sky, but Michael liked it that way. He would have liked to disappear. He didn’t want to be seen in such a state of disarray, a monstrous moment of insanity that always came with a binge.

His skin was burning, hot with a combination of contradictory feelings. He was angry and excited all at once. He was nervous and relieved. His mouth watered for food, but at the same time, he dreaded what would become of him the second he took the first bite. He knew what he was doing was stupid, but it was the most important part of his day. He craved the solace of being around other people, but he had to battle his demon alone.

Chips, pretzels, cookies, and ice cream were arranged around him, ready for his upcoming feast. He’d just made a run to the nearest convenience store, filling his arms with anything that struck his fancy. Though, he did have some guidelines he always followed when he shopped for food. _A method to my madness._

When he could, he chose generic because there was no point getting the good stuff when he wasn’t going to keep it in his stomach, anyway. The process of binging felt chaotic, but like everything else, there was a ritual to it. There was a ratio of sweet to salty Michael liked to keep, for example, and he always had chips and ice cream, but the other things were variable and depended on his mood. Sometimes, he broke his mold and would on binge on fast food or bar food, but mostly, he kept to his standbys.

With all the food in front of him, he tried not to calculate how much he would be eating. He tried to not think about most of the consequences his binge would have, really. He wouldn’t contemplate how much money he spent on food per weak nor would he contemplate the damage self-induced vomiting was doing to his body because there was no sense in thinking too hard about things he couldn’t change. Some things were better left to swirl in the back of his brain, the part he was too distracted to reach during his binge.

All the thoughts he pushed aside would come to the surface when the binge was done, just before the purge, but then he’d flush them all away with the food that had briefly visited his body, transient calories that he refused to welcome.

There were a million better things he could be doing than spending hours on a food-related rituals, but here he was, about to do something that only ever made him feel like crap. He could have been doing something productive. He could have been curled up in bed with Alex, but no, instead he was doing something he knew he would regret come morning, and he was angry about it. He was so angry that this was his life, this grim cycle of not being able to eat properly.

When he wasn’t binging, Michael was eating as little as possible because with all he ate, puking alone couldn’t balance the scales out. He wasn’t actively trying to lose weight or anything, but he kept track to make sure he maintained, and losing was better than gaining because gaining was a sign of failure. Mostly, Michael was content to maintain, but it was hard to do that when his appetite never ceased.

Stomach otherwise empty, Michael began to stuff food into his mouth. He barely chewed it before swallowing and taking the next bite. He didn’t enjoy this, but it wasn’t something he could stop himself from doing. He was in a trance, packing in the food mechanically. He rotated around the different foods until he was so full that he could bust. He groaned, feeling sick to his stomach from the food packed into him.

Then, because he was too full to get up, he took an old plastic container and began to purge. When he was done, he wiped his mouth, just wanting to go to bed and let the day end, but before he could even get up, his phone rang.

“Hello,” Michael said drowsily. His head was spinning and light with the exertion of puking.

“Where are you?” he heard Alex ask.

“At home.” _This doesn’t feel like home anymore. Home is with Alex, _Michael couldn’t help but think.

“Why?”

“I had to do something.” Vague excuses were the best that Michael could do. His brain wasn’t up for anything more complex. _I’m so tired. All I want to do is sleep. My throat burns and my lips sting from all the salt. I need to go to bed so I can reset and do better tomorrow. I want to sleep away all this suffering._

“At 3 am?” Alex sounded skeptical. Michael would have been skeptical too. He knew that sneaking out of your long-term boyfriend’s bed in the early morning was usually a bad sign. _It’s not like I have much experience with boyfriends, though, so what do I know?_

“I’m a busy man, Alex.” Michael tried to put on his usual nonchalant persona, his _you can’t hurt me because I don’t care _face.

“You can’t just leave and go off to god knows where. We’re in a relationship now, meaning you can’t just fuck off in the middle of the night.” The sharpness in Alex’s voice startled Michael. _I need to keep my cool, not show the fear I have when he gets upset at me. _

“Oh,” Michael said with a teasing tone, “you were worried.”

“I wasn’t—” Alex said more gently.

“You were.”

“Well, fucked up things happen in Roswell. Can you blame me for wondering?”

“Did you think the alien got abducted?” Michael asked with a laugh. “Want to insert a tracking chip so you can always find me.”

“Shut up. If I just up and disappeared after sex, you’d probably wonder where I went too.”

“I wouldn’t blame anyone for wanting to flee the airstream. Not exactly built to comfortably sleep two.” Michael let out a cough, deep and sticky with bile.

“You’ve been smoking, Guerin?”

“Is that a pickup line? Because if it is, you need to work on your game, Alex Manes.”

“That cough didn’t sound very good, and your voice sounds extra raspy,” Alex said in a tone filled with so much affection that it made Michael uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to some noticing that he wasn’t okay.

“You worry too much.”

“You worry too little.” Now, that wasn’t true. Michael worried a lot, but he made it his personal mission not to let anyone see how worried he was all the time, that sometimes distant but always persistent worry that took up so much space in his brain.

Michael let out a yawn. “I think I need to go to bed.”

“You could be here with me.”

“I wish I was, but since I’m not, goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Don’t leave next time, Guerin.” _Don’t leave me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	5. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a delayed thanksgiving installment.

* * *

**Thanksgiving**

* * *

On Thanksgiving, Michael went with Alex to a meal hosted by Isobel. He hadn’t wanted to go, but Isobel hadn’t given him a chance to say no. So, there he was, sitting around the table with his siblings, boyfriend, Kyle, Liz, and Rosa. There was always some friction between the group, but at the end of the day, they were family.

They sat around the table, surrounded by mismatching chairs that had been collected from around the house. The conversation had slowed a little as everyone dug into their food and passed around the different dishes, all traditional Thanksgiving foods that made Michael nervous just to be around. Thanksgiving was a whole holiday dedicated to the thing that gave Michael the most anxiety: food. How was he supposed to manage being around so many yummy things without pigging out? _I have no self-control. I’m going to do something I regret. I can feel the negative urges coming, and I don’t want to give into them, but once I start eating all those forbidden foods, there will be no going back._

Michael pushed the food around his plate, taking sips of his water. He took occasional bites of his green beans and turkey, not wanting to eat any of the carbs, knowing they would only make his appetite grow. _This is torture. Why is there a holiday dedicated to socially accepted binging? I can’t get rid of what I’ve eaten here, not with everyone so close. I can’t eat too much. It doesn’t feel safe to eat at all, but I can’t not eat either. People would find that strange._

He kept moving his food around his plate, eating the smallest of bites. He didn’t eat anything too luxurious because those were the foods that would break his resolve. _I have to stick to eating healthily and then I’ll never binge again. I’ll be safe from that monster within me. _Of course, Michael knew he was deluding himself. There was a part of him that was certain he’d never get better, especially if he deprived himself of the things he loved. Yet, he made no efforts to change despite moments of self-awareness.

“Why are you acting so weird?” Alex asked eventually, and Michael froze. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice that he was off let alone comment on it, but of course Alex knew. Alex noticed more than Michael liked to think, which made Michael nervous. Observant people were the wrong kind of company for people with secrets to keep. _Alex complicates things. He’s worth the complications though._

“I’m not,” Michael insisted. _Fuck, what am I going to do? There’s no winning this. _

“Something’s not right,” Alex said, eyes narrowing and analyzing Michael. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m eating.” He took a bite to prove his point. _It’s as easy as that. If I can eat just a little, things won’t go wrong._

“Some green beans and turkey,” Alex replied, looking at Michael’s plate.

Michael rolled his eyes. “You’re being paranoid.”

“You usually have a huge appetite.”

“Are you sick?” Liz asked, looking at him curiously, the look of a scientist who wanted to know about how his kind worked. Michael hated being looked at that way, like he was a fascination more than a person. He knew Liz didn’t mean to do, but she couldn’t help herself, and it made Michael feel like a freak. _I am a freak, a freak who doesn’t belong anywhere._

“I don’t get sick.” _Only on purpose. _

“Not normally, no,” Liz said, “But we don’t know a whole lot about how your kind works.”

“You look like you’re about to be executed,” Max spoke, now he too was scrutinizing Michael with Max’s usual self-righteous big brother way. Michael often had to remind him that they were all the same age. Well, as far as they could tell. “Do you need acetone.”

_I don’t deserve the relief. _“No, it’s nothing that acetone can fix.”

“So, something _is_ wrong,” Alex prodded, sounding self-assured.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that I don’t need any acetone because there’s nothing wrong with me.” Without any warning, Michael’s voice went hoarse. All that purging destroyed his throat. He began to cough violently, and the table became very quiet.

“I think he’s really sick,” Isobel said, looking shocked at the idea. Her eyes were soft and full of care. “This is new.”

Kyle looked equally shocked, “I’m not sure how alien sicknesses work, but that kind of cough isn’t normal.”

“I’m fine,” Michael told them, but no one seemed to believe him. The last thing he needed was a group of mother hens. He was fine, really, but he just didn’t want to eat because once he started eating, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and after he ate so much food, he’d feel guilty for overindulging and have to get rid of it, which he couldn’t do with so many people around. _But if I’m sick, then I can have an excuse for throwing up. I can load up on food and let it all out. Though, I can’t risk them seeing me binge. Someone who is sick doesn’t 5000 calories in one sitting. It’s best to have nothing until I’m alone. _“I’m just not that hungry.”

Alex wasn’t going to let Michael’s ailment go. “You can barely speak and you haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. Something has to be wrong.”

“I ate this morning,” Michael protested.

Alex didn’t look convinced. “Oh, I didn’t see you.”

“I can move things with my mind. I’m used to going unseen.” Michael knew it was a lame excuse. He and Alex had practically been attached to one another for the past few days, meaning

“That doesn’t explain the cough,” Kyle added.

Michael stood from his chair, feeling dizzy as he did. “Can everyone just leave me alone?” He closed his eyes, willing the fuzziness away.

“Are you okay?” Max asked.

Alex took Michael’s arm and guided him back to his chair. “You look pale.”

With his vision cleared, Michael found his bearings. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to go tanning.”

“He looks green,” Kyle said.

Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess the alien is showing through.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Max asked Liz, who shrugged in response, her eyes studying Michael far too intently.

“I just feel a little off,” Michael finally admitted just to get them all off his case. “My stomach is upset, so I’m not that hungry, but you all should stop worrying about me and eat before your food gets cold. I’m going to be okay.”

None of them seemed satisfied by his answer, but they obliged and quietly began to revert back to eating their meals. _Great, I’ve killed the mood. Just another thing I’ve messed up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading if you read this!! I'm a little late, but life was busy for a bit. I always love hearing from you.


	6. Avoiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tries to avoid Alex and Alex confronts him about it.

* * *

**Avoiding**

* * *

The next week, Michael awoke to a pounding in his head and a pounding at the door. _Oh great, just what I need. _His heart began to race as he wondered who it could be. The list was short. Sun was just barely creeping into the airstream, and with the long night Michael had, it was too early to be awake. His mind was still filled with the languor of being chronically exhausted. “Michael, open the door.” Michael exhaled. _Alex. What’s he doing here? _

Knowing he couldn’t avoid this encounter, Michael pushed himself from his bed, standing still for a moment as the normal dizziness sent black waves through his vision. When the dizziness had settled, he unlocked the door of the airstream, pushing it open to let Alex in. As much as he wanted to just stay in bed, Michael couldn’t keep avoiding Alex without an explanation. _I’m a bad boyfriend. _

“Michael,” Alex said in relief, pulling Michael in for a hug, kissing his cheek with such gentleness that Michael’s heart ached. _He can probably feel how bloated and disgusting I am. Guess there was no point in trying to hide how much of a freak I am. It doesn’t take a hidden objects games aficionado to spot the messiness of my life. _

“Why are you here, Alex?” Michael said with little affection. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken so coldly to Alex. He hated himself for doing it, but Michael’s dark secret was the thing he prioritized. He didn’t want anyone or anything to stop him, and if that meant destroying the one bright spot in his life then so be it. Eating disorders don’t leave room for happiness. _I’m a loser who’s going to end up all alone, and it’s deserved. The things I do don’t even make sense. They’re self-defeating. When I should turn to my boyfriend, I run away. When I should eat, I purge. When I should stop eating, I binge. I ignore all sense and defer to dysfunctional mental math. A+3 somehow equals Z8 to me._

“I was wondering where you were,” Alex replied with a casual shrug. He was trying to stay calm, Michael could tell, and he appreciated that Alex knew him well enough to understand that Michael wasn’t good at handling confrontation (worse than your average person). He lashed out at the slightest hint of criticism using smug remarks or biting words. Michael couldn’t talk seriously if he was in protect mode.

“Why would you do that?” Michael couldn’t fathom why Alex would even care enough to come check up on him. _What do I matter anyway? I’m a good fuck and a way to fill time, that’s all._

“I’m your _boyfriend_. It’s not weird that I would wonder where you were. I know you’re not used to relationships, but they include communication.”

“I communicate,” Michael crossed his arms impatiently. _Oh no, confrontation is coming. Alex only has so much patience, after all, and I really test it._

Alex returned to a neutral tone, very much what Michael would expect from a military man. “I’ve texted you a thousand times. I was starting to think something was wrong.”

“I haven’t used my phone in days.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie to me.” Michael wasn’t lying, actually. For once, he was being perfectly honest. After several binge and purge cycles, he’d been too exhausted to reach for his phone and plug it in. He picked up his phone, and he showed Alex that it wouldn’t turn on.

“Fine, maybe you weren’t lying about the phone, but the question remains: why are you avoiding me?” _Because I can’t function like a normal human being, and I don’t want you to see how broken I am. Because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know what’s good for him. Because I don’t know how to be a person other people want to be around. _

_“_I’m not avoiding you, honest.” Michael made a show of crossing his heart with his fingers. He wasn’t in the mood for levity, but he had to keep up the act. Sometimes, he felt like he was only a façade of a person, hollow in the middle and detached from any genuine personality.

“I haven’t seen or even heard from you in a week. I don’t think that it’s too much to at least expect a text.” Alex’s brows scrunched, and Michael watched frustration chisel his features. _I’m making him hate me. It’ll be my own fault when he decides to leave and never look back. `_

“I’ve just been busy,” Michael shrugged with one shoulder. _Busy ruining my life. Nothing exciting._

“Clearly,” Alex said, pointing to the mess of food wrappers around. Thankfully, Michael hadn’t left any containers of vomit around. _Because that’s just the kind of pathetic thing I would do. _“You’re a mess, Guerin.” _Tell me something I don’t know. _“How do you live in this filth?” _I am the filth._

“Well, I would have tidied up if I knew I was having visitors,” Michael tried to quip, but he couldn’t quite force the lightheartedness he wanted. _I’m losing my touch._

Alex picked up a stray chip bag—_barbeque—_pinching the bag between his index and middle fingers as if he’d get a skin rash if he made anymore contact with the bag_. _“When’s the last time you’ve had a vegetable, Guerin?” And ouch, that hurt, and the words reddened Michael’s cheeks with the burn of humiliation. _Everyone knows that I’m a hideous loser who only eats crap._

Michael wanted to disappear and somehow forget that he was a ravenous beast who couldn’t stick to a diet if his life depended on it. Not that he ever liked to admit he was on a diet. Partially because dieting seemed like something women did and partially because admitting he was on a diet would only lead to people watching him fail said die, which would be more humiliating than anything. He couldn’t just go out and eat a salad without someone thinking something was wrong, so he ate all the crap he was expected to, and he hated himself for it.

He hated that even though he was someone who knew what it was like to be hungry, that he still wasted food and that he made himself hungry on purpose. _I’m disgusting and an awful human being. All that food would be better off anywhere else. There are people starving and unable to get food, but here I am, bingeing and throwing it all up. _He hated the way he paid his body’s aches and pains no mind. _Who cares if my body doesn’t work the way it should. _ He hated the way he looked in the mirror. He hated his self-defeating inability to let anybody too close. _It’s easy to hurt myself before anyone else can._

Now, Alex was standing in front of him, and Michael knew he was putting up walls, walls of fear and dysfunction, walls of food and puke. They were flimsy walls that would leave him unprotected with a little rain or a gust of wind, but he kept building them even if they couldn’t protect him from all the changes, memories, and feelings that could attack at any moment.

“What are you? The junk food police?” Michael tried to keep his tone angry instead of terrified. He couldn’t let Alex see what was really going on.

“I want you to stop acting like a child.” Alex dropped the empty chip bag in the garbage and began cleaning up the other waste in the airstream.

Michael bit his tongue. He didn’t mention that he never got to be a child. He never told Alex about the terror he felt as a kid, the terror that didn’t seem to go away even though he was an adult who knew that being afraid didn’t help anything. He didn’t talk about the days he didn’t know whether he’d be beaten, starved, or just ignored. As a kid, Michael lived his life hour by hour because he couldn’t safely guess what would happen beyond that. He’d tiptoed through life, waiting to grow up and finally be left alone, but growing up didn’t erase that child within him, the little Michael who shivered in a pitch-black bedroom in a foreign bed surrounded by people he didn’t know. All he wanted was a nightlight, but he’d been teased for being a baby for wanting one, so Michael slept in the uncertain dark, and he learned to fear the light.

“You don’t have to clean up after me.”

“There’s weeks’ worth of food wrappers here. I don’t want you sitting around with all this trash. Now, come on, pick some of this junk up.” _Weeks’ worth, ha, one binge worth is more like it. How awful is that?_

Without saying anything, Michael nodded and began cleaning up his garbage. Each item sent a pang through Michael’s chest as his mind recalled the grotesque feast that he’d had the night before. As they cleaned, Michael wanted to say something. He hated the silence. Not saying anything made Michael itch as his throat burned with the urge to fill the tense space between him and Alex, but Michael didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so he let the quiet fester. The crinkle of bags was the extent of their conversation.

When the place was nearly clean with all the garbage in a garbage bag and only a few stray utensils that needed to be washed, Alex plopped down on Michael’s bed, patting the space beside him, “Come on, sit. We’re not done talking.”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“Is that a question? Or are you really sorry?”

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, and I know that. You knew that going into this.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“Then what am I?”

“Uninterested?” Alex asked, voice cracking.

Michael’s head shot up. “What?”

“I want to know if you’re uninterested in me, if this isn’t what you want anymore.”

“No… that’s… no.”

“What else am I supposed to take from you not wanting it be around me?”

“I want to be around you. I love you, Alex.” Michael wanted to take the I love you back, but Alex had already heard. _Damn._

“What?” Alex sounded shocked.

“I love you,” Michael said again, feeling like a complete idiot. _Please don’t leave. You don’t have to love me back, but please don’t leave._

“You love me?” Alex asked, his facing warping in confusion. Michael wanted to punch himself or jump in a time machine and go back in time to take it all back. _I should know better than to open my big mouth. I know it’s not smart to be vulnerable. _

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Michael wasn’t sure why he wasn’t desperately trying to find a way to reorient his words so that they weren’t as serious, but he couldn’t sully his real feelings by acting like his love for Alex didn’t exist.

_You don’t have to feel the same way about me, _Michael was tempted to say, but he didn’t want this conversation to turn into a scene from a romcom. He needed to keep his cool. _I don’t have any of that left._

“I love you too,” Alex replied, sighing. He took Michael’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze, “but that’s not enough if you’re not invested in us.”

“I’m invested, but when good things happen to me, I tend to fuck them up.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” He gave Michael a kiss, and Michael eased into it, letting his hands slide up Alex’s body to cup his cheeks. “But next time instead of running away why don’t you try talking to me. Relationships need communication, and I want you to talk to me. Do you think you can talk to me?”

Michael pulled Alex toward him, becoming more aggressive with the kiss. For a moment he pulled away, “Yeah, I think that’s a great idea.” But that crappy, hurtful part of Michael knew he wasn’t going to change. _I’ll just have to wear better camouflage._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this. Please let me know what you thought. Best wishes to you all!


	7. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael go out for a date... things get complicated.

* * *

**Date Night**

* * *

Things had returned to normal. Well, as normal as they could be. Michael was still throwing up, but he was trying harder to not avoid Alex, which mostly meant that he told more lies, but it was okay because what Alex didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Let’s do something nice tonight,” Alex suggested one evening, rubbing his hand up and down Michael’s arm as they sat on the couch in the cabin.

“Like what?” Michael asked, not in the mood to do much of anything, but he didn’t want to put a wedge between him and Alex.

“Why don’t we go to a nice restaurant or something?”

“You know I don’t fit into those kinda places,” Michael answered with a laugh, hating the idea of going somewhere that wasn’t a bar. He really liked to play up the dumb, simple cowboy act. Though, there was a part of him that liked the idea of at least a little glitz.

“You’ll be fine, Guerin.” But Michael knew he wouldn’t be. He could pretend he was okay all day long, but his world was so chaotic, and Michael wasn’t sure that would ever change. He’d always be the fuckup who couldn’t do the nice things that Alex wanted to do. _I’m better off on my own. It’s not right of me to drag Alex into my crappy world._

“No.”

“Come on, Guerin, do it for me,” Alex said with a face that was irresistible.

“No,” Michael persisted, but he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer despite the anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach.

In the end, Alex got his way. They went to a nice restaurant, and Michael’s button up shirt felt itchy and too small. His tie choked him. He felt like an intruder in the dimly lit restaurant, decorated with chandeliers and racks of expensive wine. He’d felt like an alien plenty of times, but never quite as much as in this restaurant that has a name he can’t even pronounce and people who would never try to understand him.

The menu items were even more of a riddle. He looked at the menu and immediately knew that it was all too expensive to puke up, not that it mattered much because with all the money he’d spent on purging, a little more wouldn’t make much of a difference. He’d puke if he felt the need to puke, and the price of the food wouldn’t matter. Ramen noodles and caviar had an equal chance at staying in his stomach.

Even so, he wanted to choose wisely. He wasn’t sure if he should find the lowest calorie item on the menu or if he should allow himself to have something he wouldn’t normally have. Maybe he should get whatever is cheaper because if he’s honest with himself, it’s coming out anyway. He was too nervous to let food sit in his stomach, so fuck it, he might as well do whatever the hell he wanted. No thinking about calories or grams of fat, or of the ungodly number the scale will show the next day. Damning the consequences was a lot easier said than done, but in a moment of bravery, he decided to do it. _I’m not going to overthink this. Just eat._

Michael chose some pasta dish that he makes Alex report to the waiter because it’s Italian, and Michael doesn’t want to look like an idiot when the syllables inevitably mash together wrong as they roll off his clumsy tongue. Alex hadn’t ever been wealthy, but military life had taught him the formalities. Alex could fit in in nice places while Michael couldn’t help but feeling like he was being laughed at.

The napkin on Michael’s lap felt heavy on his thighs as Alex tried to make conversation, talking about the happenings of his day. Michael tried to keep up, but he found himself thinking about the creamy sauce that would come on the pasta he’d ordered. He hadn’t gotten his food yet and he was already regretting his choice. He nibbled on a piece of bread, which tasted like diamond encrusted cardboard. _I really messed this up. I can’t even go to dinner with my boyfriend without ruining everything. _

“What is wrong with you?” Alex asked in a hushed, frustrated tone when Michael couldn’t stop fidgeting. “You’re not even listening to me.” _Everything, everything is wrong with me._

Michael stayed silent. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Try.” Alex said in what Michael referred to as his Captain voice.

Michael took a deep breath, already hating where this conversation was going. “I’m a freak.”

Alex’s eyebrows pinched together as he tried to decode what Michael was saying. “What?”

“I don’t belong here.” _Not here, not anywhere. _“I’ll never belong here. A piece of shit dressed in a suit will still be a piece of shit.”

“You belong here.” Alex put his hand over Michael’s, eyes softening. “Honey, we’re just here to have fun like everyone else. It’s okay,” Alex reassured, but that didn’t change the sense of otherness that Michael always felt. He’d never have parents, he’d never be human, and he’d never stop puking. _I can’t even be loved. I don’t deserve love or care. I deserve to be hungry and to be nothing._

“I feel so shitty, Private,” Michael said, looking down at his hands. His voice was quiet and desperate.

Alex sighed, any harshness had disappeared from his face. “I’m sorry I dragged you here. I thought it would be nice.” Alex looked so disappointed that Michael had to cheer him up. _I’m the worst person in the world. I don’t know how to have fun. I bring everyone else down with me. I’m a stupid, fat piece of shit trying to be a smart, thin piece of shit._

“I’m not sorry I came,” Michael said with a smile as the waiter placed their meals in front of them. He took a breath, trying to fight the nausea that filled him as he smelled the fatty, creaminess of his meal. He felt his stomach get bigger just by smelling it. “I’m glad for this time I get with you.”

He swirled pasta, copying Alex’s motions, and forced himself to take a bite. “It’s really good here.” _It is good, too good. This stuff will make me fat._

Alex beamed. “I know right!” Michael nodded and tried to pick up light conversation with Alex as they ate. Talking helped distract Michael from the dreadful calories he was putting into his body. They finished their meals, and Alex even convinced Michael to have dessert, and for a few moments, everything was perfect. Michael ignored the voice in his head. He even avoided crouching on the cold, marble bathroom floor of the restaurant because he was not in the mood to be judged by shiny porcelain with gold fixtures.

For a short while, Michael was calm, and it wasn’t until he got into his truck to drive to the cabin that the guilt began to simmer as he could feel fettuccine slithering in his stomach like little snakes. The sauce pooled in his gut and he imagined it overcoming him as waves of the fatty liquid rose up and consumed him.

_I need it out_, he thought as he parked the car. He plopped on the couch next to Alex, trying to wait out the thoughts consuming him, but he couldn’t do it. After five minutes, he made excuses that he needed to shower, “Alone.” He turned on the shower, putting the cold water on full blast, and stripped down to his underwear to avoid splatter on his clothes. He stepped on the scale, seeing the damage he had done, and quickly retreated to the toilet to begin the battle between his fingers and his stomach.

It was later in the digestion cycle than he’d like it to be, and he knew that he wouldn’t get out everything that he wanted to get out, but it didn’t matter. He had to do something, even if was futile and dumb and painful. He brought the food up in violet heaves, gulping water between puking.

He leaned over the toilet and stuck his fingers in his mouth again when he heard, “I just need…” Alex’s voice trailed off as he began to connect the dots of what was happening. _Oh shit, _Michael thought, ripping his fingers from his mouth even though there was no good way to somehow make what he was doing seem normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Can't wait for the next one. I love feedback, so feel free to comment! Love you all and I hope you're all doing well.


	8. Not-So Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex talk about what's been going on with Michael. Michael tries to get out of the mess he's put himself in.

* * *

**Not-So Secret**

* * *

“What the fuck, Guerin?” Alex said, looking at the sight of his boyfriend hurling his dinner into the toilet, chunks of bile and vomit sticking to his fingers. Michael recoiled from the toilet, falling back to the floor on his butt. _Fuck. I’m in trouble. I **am** trouble. Alex is going to know what I do, and he’s going to want me to stop, but I can’t stop this. I need it. I don’t even know who I am without it. _

“It’s not what it looks like,” Michael protested, wiping his mouth with his discarded flannel shirt. He flushed the toilet, letting the contents swirl away. He watched Alex go to the shower and turn the water off and wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. _How does one react when one’s boyfriend walks in on a purging episode?_ _Should I try to make excuses or deny it altogether. _

Suddenly aware of his state of undress, Michael slipped his arms into his shirt, trying to hide his body because while Alex had certainly seen Michael naked before, this situation made Michael feel exposed, more vulnerable than having sex did. His purging was something he’d never intended on sharing with anyone, but now, he’d been caught in the act and he felt like he was being outed as an alien on national television.

“So, you’re not making yourself throw up?” Alex asked, voice scathing. He looked angrier than Michael had ever seen him. Alex, for the most part, was patient, at least with Michael. He wasn’t a pushover, but he also knew not to let Michael push him away. When they first started dating, they’d promised to stop running away.

“Let’s not do this,” Michael said, voice firm with a cruel edge. His flight instinct was itching at his brain. When it came to his eating disorder, Michael wasn’t going to be pushed into anything. This thing, this ugly thing, was his to have and to hold till death do they part.

“Do what?” Alex played dumb, wanting Michael to spell it out, and Michael resented that. He didn’t want to explain because he didn’t even understand it himself. His hands shook, and he wasn’t sure if it was from purging or the emotions that were rushing through his body in bursts of chemicals. “If there’s nothing wrong, then there’s nothing to do,” Alex kept a cool tone, crossing his arms over his chest. _Why can’t he let this go? I don’t need his help or his concern, but I know Alex. He’s too stubborn to stop worrying. This is going to ruin our relationship if I’m not careful. It will erode the foundation we worked so hard to build. Maybe it already has._

“Don’t make a big deal of this because it’s not.” Alex shot him a disbelieving look. “Really, it’s not as big as I know you’re going to make it.” Michael would rather pretend that nothing had happened. He’d make Alex think that this was a one-time thing, a mistake that Michael knows better than to make again. “It was a mistake, okay? I know that. There’s nothing to talk about, so let’s not do this. Let’s not get into a fight over something so stupid.” It seemed to Michael that stupid things were the only things they ever fought about. Like where they would go for dinner or what TV show they would watch.

“Not do this? Of course, we’re doing this. We can’t avoid this conversation as much as I would like to. Making yourself throw up isn’t something I can keep quiet about.”

“God, you’re such a control freak sometimes. You always want to meddle in my life even when I explicitly tell you that I don’t want you to.”

“Yeah, wanting you to be happy and healthy is such a control freak move.” _Yeah, well it’s taking the control from me, and I can’t let that happen._

“I told you it’s not a big deal. It’s not like I have an eating disorder or something. I was only trying it. You know, seeing what would happen.” _I’m really fine. Throwing up is merely something that happens sometimes. It’s not a problem._

Alex looked skeptical. Michael knew his excuses weren’t that great, but it was hard to use his brain with puke on his mind. He had yet to finish his puke session, he couldn’t ignore the urge to keep going. “Why would you even try it in the first place? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t.”

“I thought it might be fun,” Michael said dryly with a small smile, trying to add some lightheartedness to the conversation. It was his nature to never take serious matters too seriously. “Aliens love puking.”

“Do not make jokes right now.”

“Lighten up, Alex.”

“No, I won’t lighten up you son of a bitch. You’re going to die. People can’t—”

“I’m not.” Michael shook his head. “Stop being dramatic. One time can’t hurt me.” _But who knows what thousands of times can do?_

“Michael—"

“I’m an alien,” Michael refuted. He wasn’t sure what his body could handle, but given how shitty he felt all the time, he figured alien bodies weren’t meant to handle self-induced vomiting either. He wasn’t going to tell Alex that, of course. There were a lot of things that Alex was better off not knowing.

“That doesn’t make you invincible, Michael. Doesn’t it hurt? It can’t possibly feel good to do that. Alien or not, that had to feel shitty.”

“I’m hunky dory,” Michael said with the brightest smile he could muster, but his voice was raspy, his throat sore from exertion. “I feel fine,” Michael reiterated.

Alex scoffed. “Come on, get off the floor. I know when you’re just putting on a show. You can’t fool me like the other seven and a half billion people on Earth. Your bravado and jokes can’t get you out of this one.”

“Just leave me alone,” Michael protested. “I’m not done here.”

“What… you’re… Michael…” _I finally made him speechless. _

“Please, let me have a few minutes, and then we can talk or whatever.” Michael looked at the toilet and glowered at the sullied porcelain. “I just need a few more minutes.” Michael felt pathetic for practically begging to finish puking, but there was nothing worse than a puking session being interrupted (other than maybe a bingeing session being interrupted). He needed to finish what he had started.

“No.” Alex tugged on his arm, but Michael didn’t budge. “No, you’re done. I’m not going to let you keep doing something so…” he trailed off.

“So what? Self-destructive? Gross? Stupid?” _I’m such an idiot. I should have at least locked the door. _“Whatever you want to call it, I already know, so just save it.”

“I don’t know, Michael. I really don’t know what to think, but I do know that you can’t keep doing it. Your voice is so raw you can hardly speak, so don’t try to pass this off as fine. Sticking your fingers down your throat is not okay.” _He acts like I don’t know that this situation sucks. Of course, it sucks, but it’s what I have to do._

“I’ll drink some acetone after, and I will feel better.” Michael rarely afforded himself that luxury because acetone was cheating in his mind. Usually, he let the pain and fatigue linger. _It’s what I deserve. _“I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh yeah? You’re an expert now, I guess. I thought this was just a onetime thing. That’s what you want me to think, isn’t it?” _Damn him for being so smart. Damn him for caring. Damn him for opening the damn door._

“Alex—” Michael tried to do damage control, but he wasn’t in the best headspace to talk himself out of the shit he had gotten himself into. It was hard to act fine on a bathroom floor.

“How long have you been doing this?” Alex’s voice was strained, sounding like he was trying and failing to stay calm. _This is going to hurt him. _

“I told you it was just a onetime thing.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Clearly, it’s not. If it was a onetime thing, you wouldn’t be begging me to let you keep doing it.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Alex. Just let it go.”

“How long?” Alex asked, his voice commanding, and Michael had trouble resisting that tone.

“Not long,” Michael tried, feeling a wave of emotions take over. He pushed back the tears that welled in his eyes, filled with shame and self-hate. His stupid food problems always made him want to sob like a baby. _I hate crying. I hate not being able to stop the tears. I should be able to, but sometimes, I can’t. _Some of his foster parents had belittled him for crying and screamed at him for acting like a child (even though he was literally a child).

One foster mom in particular liked to make him cry as a hobby, so she’d berate him until the tears sprung, and then, she’d make fun of him for crying until he cried even harder. Once he started full on sobbing, she’d leave him. She’d nonchalantly go into the kitchen and begin to chop potatoes like nothing was wrong. She made a variation of potatoes almost every night for dinner and watching her cut them had always made Michael’s mouth go dry, even on days when she left him alone. In fact, eating certain kinds of potatoes—mashed, scalloped, baked, boiled, fried—still made Michael feel a little queasy as he thought of his foster mother’s snide, uncaring smile. As his foster mom prepared for dinner, she’d tell the other kids, her “real kids,” not to talk to the crybaby, and the children would laugh at him, and the humiliation of crying in front of other people made it nearly impossible to stop crying.

Even as an adult, the threat of tears sent a disconcerting wave of terror and guilt through Michael, so he tried to cry as little as possible, even though whenever he let himself cry, it always felt really good.

“I’m not in the mood for games,” Alex voice pierced through Michael’s thoughts, which was fine because it was probably better not to ruminate about the past.

“Just because we’re in a relationship doesn’t mean I don’t get to keep things to myself.”

“This isn’t something you can keep to yourself. It’s entered our life together now whether you like it or not.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Stop that,” Alex yelled, “Stop trying to diminish your problems. We’re not leaving this room until I get a little honesty from you. Tell me the truth.” They were both getting louder, and Michael had risen to his feet, shoving himself closer to Alex.

“Fuck you. It’s this is my business and my body, so when I told you it doesn’t matter, I meant it.”

“Of course, it matters,” Alex shouted.

“It doesn’t. Why would it matter? Nothing about me matters. I’m just a waste of space that for some reason you like. You like what I am to you, but you won’t like this because _it’s_ not the person you think you know. It’s not the Michael who doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. It’s not the Michael who loves, who’s nice. It’s not the Michael who has a chance of being anyone worth a damn, so yes, it doesn’t matter because it’s the only redeeming part of me, but it also sucks.”

“It matters,” Alex insisted, jaw clenched.

“Why?”

“Because you matter,” Alex cried, frustration bubbling over. He took a deep breath, putting his hand through Michael’s curls. “You matter to me, and I want to know who you are, every single part of you, every frustrating, endearing part of you.”

“It isn’t pretty,” Michael warned.

Alex pointed to his leg and then to a scar on his arm that he’d gotten when his dad had beat him for “acting too gay.” “Not every part of me is pretty either, Guerin, but I don’t want to hide those parts from you.”

“That’s not the same.”

Alex looked like he had a counterargument, but he didn’t bring it up. He cut right to the point. “How long?” Alex asked, already afraid of the answer.

Michael took a deep breath. _If I don’t confess this now, I don’t think I ever will. _He was torn, but Alex wasn’t going to leave him alone until he said the truth. “On and off since I was seventeen,” he confessed, crumbling against the wall to the floor, putting his head in his hands. This bathroom floor was clean, at least as clean as a bathroom floor could be. Michael had been on many worse floors in his time. This one was home.

Alex looked like he had the wind knocked out of him and slid down the wall to sit beside Michael. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Michael repeated.

Alex turned to Michael, looking a little sick himself. “You’re going to stop. I need you to tell me you’ll stop.”

“Alex…” Michael trailed off, knowing that he couldn’t make any promises. “You don’t understand. I can’t just stop.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is! I need this. I don’t know who I’d be without it.” It sounded so pathetic, but it was the truth. Michael wasn’t sure who he would be if he stopped purging. How would he cope? How would he feel better? How would he feel all the empty moments? How would he eat?

“That’s no way to live.”

“But this is the way I live, Alex. You don’t have to accept it, but this is me. Like it or not I’m just a pool of vomit with a little person.” He wasn’t sure if there was any person in him even. Did personhood require humanity?

“That’s not you,” Alex shouted, and Michael couldn’t help but be flinch.

“Don’t be mad,” Michael pleaded, feeling like a ten-year-old kid begging not to be hurt, a pathetic, emotional kid who’d grow up learning to push his emotions down and not let people see him cry, but that didn’t change that at his core, Michael was sensitive. He felt very deeply, and he couldn’t let his feelings fester without doing anything about it. He’d learned long ago that all those feelings were best kept locked behind closed doors, swirling down the toilet with the disrupted contents of his stomach.

Michael’s heartrate quickened as the sharp edge of Alex’s voice awoke memories. Alex wasn’t like his foster parents had been, but Michael had still reacted like he was one of those abusive pieces of trash, and he hated himself for it. _Alex loves me._ He hated how tense his shoulders had become and how he couldn’t seem to take a full breath. He hated how he startled when Alex put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and that Alex quickly withdrew his hand.

_I’m a freak for not being able to move on. I’m not a helpless child anymore, so why am I still so afraid? _Michael hated that he couldn’t just get over his past. He hated that he still recoiled when he felt that familiar helpless vulnerability. He hated that he felt he deserved all the blows the universe could throw at him. He hated how he went to bars begging to get hit, and that now he was trying to do that with Alex because it was easier to know that you deserved the punches than to not know why you were being punched. It was easier to be hated for being a little shit than for just being. He’d fight and say stupid things to goad Alex into hating and hurting him, but all that ever did was hurt Alex.

The problem was that Alex wasn’t violent no matter how big of a bastard Michael was. It just wasn’t who he was. No matter how mad he got, he wouldn’t punch Michael. He wouldn’t burn him. He wouldn’t lock him in a room and tell him if he was good that he could have food. He wouldn’t exorcise him (though Michael thought that there was a demon inside him after all, one the exorcism hadn’t shaken from his body). He wouldn’t call Michael a worthless waste of space. Alex wouldn’t stop loving Michael, but Michael was terrified that maybe there was no such thing as unconditional love for people like him.

Alex took a second to calm himself, looking at Michael with understanding eyes. Michael felt like Alex was staring straight through him, and it was terrifying. Alex tentatively put a hand on Michael’s forearm, careful not to move too quickly. “I’m not mad, honey. I’m scared.” _Honey_—Alex loved to use sweet pet names, and they always softened Michael as the twinkling sound filled his ears and steadied his breathing. Michael, meanwhile, could only use pet names for Alex in jest because any other time, sugary words of affection felt chunky and sour against his tongue. Alex made affection sound so easy.

“You don’t need to be. I’m okay. I promise.” _It’s not like I’m sick or something. I know puking isn’t healthy, but I feel fine. Mostly._

“You need to see a doctor.”

“Yeah, so I can be exposed as an alien. Good idea, Manes.”

“I’ll call Kyle.” Alex started to pull out his phone, but Michael pulled the phone from his hand.

“You can’t. This stays between us.”

“Michael—”

“No, no one can know about this.” _Do you know how humiliating this is for me?_

Alex deflated, and Michael hated himself for it. “Would you have ever told me?”

Michael shrugged. _I wouldn’t have ever told anyone._ “Some things are better off as secrets.”

“I’m going to help you,” Alex insisted, sounding so sure.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Michael had quit hoping a long time ago. He sighed. “Go to bed. I’ll be there soon.”

“Not until you do.”

“I just need to finish this. I promise that I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I’d be a shitty boyfriend if I let you keep throwing up.”

“You couldn’t be a shitty boyfriend if you tried, but I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t finish.”

“That’s really screwed up,” Alex said, voice soft. “I’m not leaving this bathroom until you go to bed.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Michael said with a laugh, but the anxiety was still bubbling in his stomach because if Alex was still in the bathroom, Michael couldn’t start puking again. Sure, there was a part of him that wanted to purge right in front of Alex to show that he wasn’t going to let Alex stop him from doing what he needed to do, but at the same time, Michael couldn’t think of a greater humiliation than having someone watch him in his most shameful act.

“I need to be if I want to keep you around,” Alex joked, but his voice had a dark undertone that sent a shiver down Michael’s spine.

“How long are you going to sit here?”

“All night if I have to, Guerin,” Alex promised, and he kept to his word. He sat by Michael, waiting three hours and chatting through yawns until Michael had calmed enough to go to bed. Michael finally picked himself from off the floor, washed himself off, and brushed his teeth. He asked for a minute alone. _I need to weight myself, at least. See the damage I’ve done._

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Too tired to argue, Michael compromised. “Fine. Turn around then. I want a little privacy.” With a shrug, Alex obliged, and Michael thanked whoever was looking after him for Alex’s compliance. Alex yawned, “Make it fast, I’m exhausted.”

With Alex’s back to him, Michael pulled out the scale and stripped his clothes. He hated having someone so close for this ritual, but Alex wasn’t giving him much of a choice.

“What are you doing?”

“Just want to check my weight,” Michael said casually.

Alex stiffened, back still to Michael. “It doesn’t matter, you know. You weigh exactly what you should.” _Alex just doesn’t get it._

Michael sighed, looking at the number on the scale. He stepped off the scale and slipped his underwear back on. “More than I did at this time last night.” He kicked the scale back to its original place, straightening it out with his foot.

Without permission, Alex turned around and pulled Michael into a hug. Michael melted into his love’s arms. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” Alex whispered breathily.

Michael was silent for a while, a tear brushing past his cheek and onto Alex’s shirt. “Neither should you,” he finally said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! It was one I was really excited to get out into the world, so I hope it was a good. Thanks so much for reading. Feel free to comment!


	9. Can't Stop the Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is going about his morning routine. Alex worries.

* * *

**Can't Stop the Worry**

* * *

Michael woke up with a dry mouth. His limbs felt limp and heavy against the sheets. The thought of lifting his head from the pillow was a challenge he wasn’t ready for. He wanted to go back to sleep, but his body would tolerate no more rest.

Getting out of bed was always the hardest part of his day. Michael laid on his back, and absently brush his finger of the ridges of his stomach. He felt the muscles, the fat, and with enough attention he could detect his bones. He took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling, begging the sun not to shine too brightly into his sleep bleary eyes. The worst mornings were when the sun was so bright while Michael felt so dark. The brightness would give him a migraine, but the way the sun heated his skin made him feel almost human.

As sounds began to fill his ears, Michael could hear Alex had shuffling in the kitchen. Military life made Alex used to getting up bright and early, which was why the couple had two contrasting philosophies to morning. Alex liked to jump out of bed right away and putter around for a while before settling down for breakfast. Meanwhile, Michael preferred to lounge in bed for a while before meandering into the kitchen to get his coffee.

As morning percolated, so did coffee. The smell of Michael’s favorite blend wafted through the cabin, and Michael took this as his sign to quit lying in bed and start his day, even if he’d like to stay in bed forever and let the heaviness of his bedding steady him. Although he ran hot, Michael Guerin loved piling on blankets when he slept. Alex didn’t understand how he didn’t suffocate with all the warmth and weight of the blankets.

Forcing himself up and swinging his feet over the side of the bed, Michael went directly to the bathroom. Thoughts of food and his body began to bubble in boiling waves of thought. He imagined what he would eat and how much he would weigh. He worried about how things could go wrong.

He took off his dirty clothes, and stepped on the scale, trying not to think too hard about the number, but of course, he couldn’t stop thinking about that damn number. In the shower, he turned the water as hot as it would go, and stepped under the harsh stream, the water immediately reddening his skin.

When he was done with his shower, he put on new clothes and ran a couple fingers through his hair before heading straight for the coffee pot. He wouldn’t survive without coffee because even when he got eight hours of sleep, he still felt like he’d just run a marathon.

“You want breakfast?” Alex asked as Michael shuffled into the kitchen.

“No thanks,” Michael said, pouring himself a mug of black coffee, and sitting across from Alex at the table. He sipped the coffee, letting the warmth of the mug soothe his hands as the warm fluid flowed down his throat.

“You should at least have a little something.” Alex’s voice was firm, sounding more like a demand than a suggestion. _Things have changed between us, and it’s all my fault. He’s going to micromanage my food, and that’s just going to make it harder to eat._

“I never eat breakfast.” Michael tried to keep his voice calm because this weird dynamic that had bloomed overnight was not worth fighting over. Maybe after the freshness of Michael’s problem had worn off, Alex would let up a little. _Sadly, Alex isn’t the type of person to look the other way. He cares. For whatever reason he cares, and he won’t rest until he’s sure I’m okay._

Alex took a bite of buttered toast, and it was so casual in a way Michael couldn’t understand. _He makes it look so easy. _“Yeah, and maybe that’s why you should.”

“It’s not because of whatever you’re thinking.” Maybe it was, but Michael had long ago convinced himself that not eating breakfast was not because of his disorder. He’d made a lot of excuses to himself for skipping breakfast— health, metabolic function, time— but none were the truth. He couldn’t remember the truth.

“People generally eat three meals a day. Don’t you think that maybe only having black coffee is disordered?” _I think it’s great. Why eat when it’s so easy to not eat in the mornings?_

“I eat plenty, Alex.”

“How much of it do you throw up?” Michael paled, not wanting to consider how much of his day was spent do something so stupid.

“Jesus, you’re going to make everything about _that _now. I’ve had just black coffee for breakfast hundreds of times when I’ve been here, and you never said anything about it before.”

“Because I didn’t know what you were doing to yourself.”

“And now you’re seeing disorder where it doesn’t exist.”

“Okay but starting the day by depriving yourself can’t be good for your eating disorder. It seems like common logic to me, Michael.” _Yeah, well, I don’t communicate with myself in common logic. I know a lot of shit, but none of it makes me change. _

“I don’t have an… I just have issues.”

“You can’t even say it.” _Because it’s not that serious. I’m fine. It’s only a little struggle._

“Just let me just enjoy my coffee in peace. I don’t try to give you health advice.”

“Good thing. Can’t you have a piece of toast?”

“No,” Michael said.

“Why not? It won’t hurt you.” _That’s what you think. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be out of control near food._

“I’d rather spend those 110 calories elsewhere.”

“Calories aren’t a currency.”

“Just because you aren’t balancing the checkbook doesn’t mean you’re not spending cash.”

“I’m not sure that applies to this. I don’t count calories, subconsciously or otherwise.”

“That’s not true. Everyone counts calories. Your body does it automatically. When you’ve just had a big meal, you know to skip out on the ice cream because you know you’re full. I’m not like that.”

“You don’t know when you’re full?” Alex looked a little lost.

Michael shook his head. “I feel full sometimes.” _So full I might burst_, but there was no way Michael was going to express that out loud_. _“But I get carried away, and I ruin things.” _I go to bed five pounds heavier than I woke up. _“Never mind,” Michael said, gulping down the last of his coffee. The dredges always tasted the most bitter. He leaned over to give Alex a kiss, “I have to go.”

Alex grabbed his hand. “We should talk more later.” Michael had had quite enough of talking. 

Michael groaned, “Only if we talk about who should be kicked off _The Bachelor._”

Alex rolled his eyes. “You already know my decision.”

“Emily.” Michael shook his head. “You have bad taste in women.”

Alex leaned in for another kiss, deepening it this time. “Better taste in men.”

Michael laughed. “Marginally.”

“Call me if you need to talk.”

“I’ll be okay without you for a few hours.”

“I know you will, but still, call me if you need me. I’m always available for you.”

“You’re such a worrier.”

“Only because I love you.”

Michael gave him one last kiss, “I love you too, but I promise, I’m okay.” Neither Michael nor Alex believed that was true, but neither would argue the statement either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex's dynamic is changing, and of course, that's going to cause some chaos. More of that to come. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The story is starting to pick up and I'm so excited about that. thanks so much for reading. You're all the best!! xxx


	10. Triggered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael go out to eat with Liz and Maria. Michael is triggered...

* * *

**Triggered**

* * *

Michael sat in the diner’s booth, the warm vinyl heating his body. He dreaded being in this place, where nothing was healthy, and purging was bound to at least enter his mind. _I’m screwed. _

“What are you getting?” Alex asked, immediately annoying Michael, and it wasn’t like Alex had done anything, but something about his tone had sent a fresh wave of rage through Michael, and besides, Michael was still fuming Alex making him come here in the first place. He’d much rather self-isolate, thank you very much. _Fuck being social. _

They were waiting for Liz and Maria to arrive, so Michael spent the time trying to dissect the menu even though he already memorized everything on it and how many calories would be in each item, which wouldn’t make much difference in the end, anyway. He’d eat too much and have to purge as he always did. It was only a matter of time, and the anxiety of the situation would only make it harder to resist.

Michael shrugged, looking at the menu with a furrowed eyebrow. He tried to find something that wouldn’t set him off because he wanted to at least try being normal even if it never once worked. It was easier to avoid food altogether than to risk feeling guilty and binging, but with Alex so close and other people dining with them, that wasn’t an option. He’d have to choose something, but all the options made his head spin. _Isn’t it so fun to be alive? _“I don’t even want to be here.”

“I thought it would be fun, and it will look weird if we just stop going to social events.”

“I just ate.”

“Funny that I never see it.” _Not that funny, really. It’s just not attractive to binge in front of your boyfriend. _

“I can’t eat any of this. It’s too much.” _I’m such a baby. I need to get a life._

“Is there something you can order that won’t be so hard?” Alex was trying to be understanding, Michael knew that, but his voice was clipped.

“I’ll just say I ate before I came.”

Alex didn’t look up from his own menu. “You have to eat. None of this crap is going to kill you.”

Michael sighed. “It won’t make a difference what I order.”

“What does that mean?”

“Everything just feels like it’s going to be bad for me_.” If I choose something healthy, which they don’t have anything here, I’ll be unsatisfied and binge and then feel bad. If I choose something unhealthy, I’ll feel bad and binge and then feel unsatisfied still. _“The second I put food into my mouth everything goes to shit,” Michael said in a hushed tone. “I’ll eat too much.”

“So what if you do?”

_So what if you do? _The words struck him because yeah, Alex was right. Nothing that terrible would happen if he ate too much. A person didn’t gain weight over one meal, but even so, the fear consumed Michael, making it hard for him to get past the irrational fears ticking in his head.

“So what if you do what?” a cheerful voice came from behind Michael. _Saved by the bell. _

“Hey, Maria, Liz.” Alex greeted them, dropping the earlier conversation, but he looked disappointed that the conversation had been cut short.

Michael gave Maria and Liz both a nod as a hello, subconsciously moving closer to Alex as Maria and Liz slid into the booth on the other side of them.

“You’re quiet, Guerin,” Maria said as she slid into the booth. “I haven’t seen you out drinking much lately either.” Yeah, he didn’t much get the chance with Alex hovering. Plus, at this point, he had enough to deal with without bar fights.

“I’m a man of few words, and now few drinks too.”

Liz smirked, “Max will be happy not to have you down at the station so often.”

Michael forced a laugh, “He’ll miss my company. He’ll be stuck with the not so fun drunks.”

“Where is Max?” Alex asked. “I’m surprised you didn’t drag him along.”

“He had to work late or else I’m sure he wouldn’t be able to pass up one of these delicious burgers.” _They are delicious, but I certainly can’t have one, not if I’m going to keep it down, but maybe I could get one just this one. Pretend it’s not a dangerous thing. _

Before they could say anything more, a waitress came to their table and took their orders. A burger for Alex, a burger and a milk shake for Liz, and a salad for Maria. Oh, how Michael would kill for a milkshake, but if he ate a milk shake, he would have to purge because milkshakes were too easy to bring back up to not bring them back up when the opportunity presented itself.

He’d decided on what he was going to get, but Maria’s salad order shook him, made Michael feel as though he should be getting a salad too. _If someone like her is getting a salad, my fat ass self should be getting one as well. I can’t afford a cheat meal, not if I want to get this purging under control._

A strange wave of competitiveness surged through him, but he knew a salad was out of the question. If he had a salad, he wouldn’t be able to have most of the shit on it, and nothing said I have food issues like ordering a salad with no dressing, no cheese, and no croutons. A garden salad would work, but again, it would look suspicious.

Michael’s food logic never quite added up right, but he couldn’t help but follow it.

“Michael,” Alex said gently, nudging at him. “It’s your turn to order.” _Shit. What am I going to do? To be a fat ass or not to be a fat ass? To act normal or to act to act like a freak?_

Before he could think Michael said, “I’ll have a plain burger with broccoli instead of fries.” _Is that what you call a compromise? I’m such an idiot. Why would I order that?_ The waitress gave him an odd look but nodded and wandered off to her next table. Michael felt like someone had just exposed him as an alien.

“You on a health kick, Guerin?” Maria asked with a grin. “Doesn’t seem like you to pass up the fried option.” That was a fair comment because it was true, Michael normally couldn’t resist foods that would clog his arteries, but he sure liked to try. When he succeeded in denying himself, it felt like he’d completed a marathon.

He looked down at his hands. “I don’t like potatoes.”

Liz looked unbelieving. “I’ve seen you eat like a million potatoes.” His relationship with potatoes was too complex to explain to Liz, so he stayed quiet.

Alex spoke seriously, “I guess he’s sick of them.” _Sick, yup, there’s definitely sickness involved._

Maria punched Michael’s shoulder from across the table. “Maybe some broccoli can help you cut down on that beer belly.” It was a joke. Michael knew that, of course he did. Maria wouldn’t have said anything if he actually had a beer belly, but the thought made him sick. Michael hadn’t even gotten his meal yet, and he already wanted to throw it up. He wanted to go to the bathroom and get rid of the water he’d consumed, but he froze, not sure how to process what had just been said.

Alex’s brows scrunched together in consternation. “He doesn’t have a beer belly.” He squeezed Michael’s thigh, clearly resisting the urge to give Michael more reassurance, but the touch only made Michael feel worse. _He can feel what a hideous piece of lard I am. Soon, he’ll realize that I’m not worth the coronary I’ll give him. _

“Nothing wrong with having some fat,” Michael found himself saying. Fat on other people didn’t concern him, but it was different when it came to himself.

Alex cut in in an authoritative tone, and Michael was thankful to have someone redirect the conversation. “I’m sure there’s a million better things to talk about potatoes and beer bellies. Liz, I’m sure you’re doing something at work worth talking about.”

Liz looked a little surprised at the abrupt change of conversation, but she happily talked about her latest project anyway, and Maria told stories about drunk customers she’d had to deal with.

By the time the food arrived, Alex was talking about the shenanigans of his own job, and Michael was relieved the conversation didn’t have a chance to come full circle to him because it wasn’t like he did anything worth speaking about. _I just fix shit because its something to do. It’s not like I do anything that matters. _

His burger was put in front of him, and a wave of nausea filled him. The burger was big and juicy, and the number of calories even without any toppings was absurd. The broccoli wasn’t much better, dripping with melted butter. _Not even healthy foods can be healthy._

He felt Alex’s eyes on him and was pressured into taking a big greasy bite. His stomach flipped in dread as the meat slithered down his throat. He withheld a gag, his body already rejecting its offerings. He set the burger back down and broke it into pieces, hoping to make it look more eaten than it was because he dreaded the thought of putting it back in his mouth.

Michael pushed his food around the plate, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork. He took a small bite, barely letting the leafy edges of the broccoli brush his tongue. The grainy taste of butter instantly hit his taste buds and he put his fork down.

He looked back at the desecrated burger. _I should have ordered chicken, _he thought because there was something about red meat that felt unsafe. _I’m such a dumbass. _This meal was already turning out to be a failure. _What’s new. All I know is failure. _

Usually when he went out to eat, Michael didn’t pick at his food so much. He normally would just eat it and then throw it up if need be, but with Alex knowing his secret, Michael had to be more careful because he wasn’t sure how to throw up without Alex knowing. _Alex can’t know. He has to think that I’m trying to stop. _But Alex or not, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep this meal down. He wasn’t sure saving face was worth an expanding stomach. The tornado in his head was already too violent.

He forced himself to take more bites. He chugged some water. _Just in case I need to bring this all back up. _The food settled unevenly in Michael’s stomach, making him feel like he would tip over if he didn’t do something about it.

Unable to take it anymore, Michael nudged Alex to scoot out of the booth. “I have to take a leak,” he explained, and Alex’s eyes blazed. It wasn’t like he was planning on throwing up. _Thoughts don’t equal action._ He wanted to puke, but he was still trying not to. He just needed to go to the bathroom in case he needed to throw up. He needed space to think this through away from the food that so tormented him.

With a small nod, Alex let him go, because like it or not, they both knew they couldn’t make a scene. Trying to keep his eyes from the floor, Michael traveled to the bathroom, barely pushing the door open enough for him to push through.

_It wouldn’t be that bad if I got rid of the food. I don’t need to be better right away. _He could start acting better tomorrow, maybe. Just this one last time he could do what he needed to do, and then he could work on fooling Alex. Today would be his last day being sick. _I can’t let the food linger, not when I’m feeling this bad. _It wasn’t even a binge. He shouldn’t feel that bad, but the unsatisfied voice in his head was relentless.

He tried to resist, he really did, but he couldn’t breathe. He needed to make some room in his stomach. He pushed his way into a stall and crouched over it. He couldn’t go through his usual routine here, but there was no stopping it. He forced the contents of his stomach up through his body, ridding himself of the few bites he had taken.

When he got out of the stall, the sight of Alex sent a surge of anger through him. _Alex always seems to make me mad lately._ Arms crossed, Alex looked like he was just barely holding himself together. Michael pushed past him to wash his hands. He scrubbed at his hands, the marks on his knuckles as bright red as they ever were.

“You didn’t have to do that. You barely ate,” Alex finally said as Michael dried his hands on the back of his shirt. He rinsed his mouth out and popped in a couple of mints. “How did I not notice sooner?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t even eat a meal normally.”

Michael turned red at the comment. “Thanks a lot, Alex. Makes a guy feel real good.”

“Is it always like this?”

Michael shrugged, “Meals are mostly fine.” Though, he didn’t have a lot of meals. Mostly, he just binged… and purged.

“Do you always want to um…” Alex trailed off. Michael knew he was going to ask about vomiting.

Michael froze. “I don’t do it after every meal. I _can _eat normally.”

“Okay, but you did it now.”

Michael shook his head, even though there was no sense in denying what he had done. “I’m okay,” which wasn’t exactly the truth, but he’d already purged so it was as close to okay as he could be.

Alex took Michael’s hands in his, lifting it closer to his face to look at the scars on his knuckles. “I thought those were from fighting,” he said in a choked voice. “Do they hurt?”

Michael shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“I didn’t ask you if it was fine.”

“I don’t think about it too much. I kind of ignore the parts of it that don’t feel good.”

“What _does _feel good about it?”

Michael turned away from Alex. “Let’s go back to the table. It’ll look weird that we’ve been gone this long.”

“I just want to understand.”

“When did everything become about me? I’m not the only one with bad coping mechanisms. You have your own issues to deal with. You don’t hear me pestering you about those because I know you probably don’t want to talk about them.” Deflection was an excellent tactic that Michael had learned early.

“Yeah, well, I’ve actually seen a therapist about my shit.” Then, under his breath, “At least I can eat."

“Let’s just finish eating.”

Alex scoffed, “Yeah? So you can throw it back up?”

“Shut up.”

“At least drink some water so you’re not dehydrated.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” _I know what I’m doing even if I don’t like it._

“Yeah, well, let’s not make it the last,” Alex said before they went back to the table, and Michael tried, and failed, to shove some food down his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. Thanks so much for reading. I love you all and hope that you're doing well. Let me know your thoughts!!


	11. Love is a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Maria chat.

Michael was alone at the Wild Pony, trying not to bother Maria, even though she was the reason he was there in the first place. _I’m just a lonely bastard trying to not bother my boyfriend every time I feel like shit. He’ll learn to hate me if I whine to him whenever I’m feeling insecure. I don’t want our relationship to become about my issues. I don’t deserve Alex. I don’t even deserve a kind glance from Alex._

Even while aimlessly looking at his phone, he could feel Maria watching him with the corner of her eye as she tended to other patrons. It wasn’t that busy, so she was mostly talking everyone up and letting them vent if they needed to. She always said that tending bar was like being a part-time therapist. After a while, she slid Michael another drink, following it the short distance until she was right in front of him at the bar. “You haven’t drunk like this in a while, Guerin. What’s up? Trouble in paradise?”

Michael downed his drink in one sip. The liquor burned and his eyes blazed hot. He needed to be tipsy to talk. “What’s it to you? We both know any trouble would be my fault. It’s always big, bad Michael Guerin’s fault.”

Maria held back a laugh. She pulled the glass from Michael’s hands and put on the counter beside him so he would stop fidgeting with it. “That’s not true.”

“Let’s just say no one would take my side in the divorce.” _Not that Alex will ever want to marry me in the first place._

“Listen, Michael, Alex is my family, which means I know better than anyone what a stubborn jackass he can be when he wants to. He can be controlling and petty when he’s passionate about something, but it’s because he wants what is right. He believes in loyalty and justice, and I love that about him even if sometimes the stubborn jackass in him breaks through.”

“Yeah, but I’m stubborn jackass times ten.” _With none of the redeeming qualities. _

“You’re my family too now, you know.” Michael’s heart flipped. Being liked was dangerous. _Running boy emoji. RUNNING BOY EMOJI! _Michael’s throat started to itch, and he craved a big juicy burger and a side of disgustingly potato-y fries to flush the soft feelings from his body.

Michael clutched his chest and groaned. “You can’t do that to a guy.”

“Show any semblance of affection?” Maria asked, a light tone to her voice.

He kept his lips pressed sealed, trying to think of some witty comeback, but he could only think about all the things he could be eating. _All the more reason to keep my mouth closed. _

Finally, he shrugged. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all. Sincerity.” _Love. _Michael was used to people doing things for him because they needed something. Even Max ran hot and cold, loving Michael only when it was convenient, and Isobel would always be Max’s sister before she was Michael’s.

“Alex tells you he loves you and you don’t clam up then.” Alex was maybe the one person who would choose Michael above all people. _Maybe not Liz or Maria, but maybe on a good day I’d win out. _

“Yeah, that’s because Alex is too nice. He can’t help but love me.” _He’s attached to the idea of me. If only I could live up to the person he thinks he loves. _

“Give Alex some credit, Guerin. He’s not some helpless victim who is stuck loving you. He chooses to love you.”

“What about the old adage that we don’t choose who we love?”

“It’s bullshit. We choose to love every day. We choose to see the good in people even when lots of things make them shitty. We choose to hold their hand when they’re sick. We choose to make time for them. We choose to pretend to like that stupid show they love. We choose to forgive them when they hurt us. We choose to stay when it would be less scary to walk away. Sometimes, we choose to stay away from them so that we don’t hate them. We don’t have an obligation to give it to everyone or to hurt ourselves just to be what someone else wants, but yes, Michael, we do choose love. We don’t choose who we’re attracted to, but we choose which relationships to build and maintain.”

“That include ourselves?” Michael said so softly he could hardly hear his own voice, but Maria heard everything. If a person could choose to love themselves, wouldn’t Michael have done it a long time ago? _No, probably not. It’s hard to love someone like me. _

Maria thought for a moment, looking at Michael with a sad fondness. “It takes work, like any love, but I think you can.” Michael picked up his cup, moving it back and forth in his hand.

“Maybe some people just can’t be loved,” Michael said looking down into his empty cup, hands gone still. _Maria probably thinks I’m so pathetic—stupid, broken Michael who hates himself. _

“You should know that not loving yourself doesn’t mean you love other people any less, and it won’t stop other people from loving you just as much. Love can’t save you from your problems, but it reminds you there’s someone worth saving.” And that was something Michael couldn’t stand to think too much about.

Michael shook his empty drink, “How about you give me a nice tall drink? Like hot basketball player tall.”

She gave a stern look. “I bet Alex is missing you.”

“He’s had enough of me lately.” _More than enough. Probably going to break up with my soon. He won’t be able to handle the real me, even just glimpses of him._

“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re pretty much all he ever talks about.” Maria chuckled. “It’s actually pretty sickening. Liz and I have instilled mandatory no-Michael hours. No offense, Guerin, but we can only take so much of hearing how wonderful you are.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’ll never know because no-Michael hours cannot include Michael.”

“Bummer.” _I wish I could have no-Michael hours. _“Hey, since we’re sharing wisdom, I have a helpful life tip.”

“What’s that?” she asked wryly.

He shook his glass. “If you always keep your glass three-quarters full, it can only ever be one-quarter empty.”

Maria smirked. “Why don’t you look at it this way: a glass is always full. The only difference is with how much air.”

Michael shrugged. “Air doesn’t fill the big ol’ hole in my gut.”

“I’m not serving you more.”

“I’ll just go to another bar.” They both knew it was an empty threat. Michael didn’t want to be drunk. He just wanted to stop thinking so much.

Maria shrugged. “Have it your way. I have other customers to serve.”

Michael looked around the room. “Barely,” he said before staggering off his chair. He needed something to entertain himself until he was sober enough to drive. _I want food. All the food I can find. _

“You need me to call Alex?” Maria finally asked.

“Nah, I just need some fresh air.” And maybe some food to purge. The night was still young, and the alcohol would make it easy to coax the food up, but bingeing and purging was a lot of work. Michael dreaded the idea of it, but what else was there to fill the time and how else could he resist the hunger gnawing at him?

“Don’t get into too much trouble.”

Michael grinned, “I will,” and Maria rolled her eyes before tending to an old guy whose wife had just died. He walked out the door, not even bothering to search the room for someone he could fight. A fight wouldn’t quiet his demons tonight.

He wandered around town for a while, hoping the itch in his throat would go away. He let the alcohol fuel him in ways that he never let food, and he was almost okay. _Almost. _He was almost able to say, “Tonight I’m not going to use food as a weapon,” but the more he tried to resist his urges, the more thoughts consumed his mind. He couldn’t stop fantasizing about all the things he could eat. His mouth was watering at just the thought of chips, but it was over an hour before he found himself in the closest convenience store. _That in itself is a small victory._

He grabbed his haul, a frantic blur racing down the aisles, barely paying attention to the labels because he wasn’t in the mood for the full out binge purge ritual. He wanted simple, straightforward self-destruction. _Can self-destruction ever be simple?_

With his feast packed away in dingy plastic bags, Michael made his way to the airstream, and walking through the door, he was struck by the familiar stale smell of food and puke that never quite went away. It lingered in the air, unidentifiable to anyone who hadn’t witnessed the gruesome dysfunction that had happened in the tiny space. The little sardines tin of torture could never smell nice. It had been through too much to grow any roses. _I hate this stupid airstream. I’m only ever here to hurt myself. I can’t let it go, but I don’t want to call this lonely, puke stained place home anymore. It’s not home. I’ve never had a real home. Maybe I’ve found it but am afraid to make the down payment. _

He threw his bags on the floor and began looking through them, making a game plan. He wanted to eat the spicy chips first, but he also wanted to save a few for after the ice cream. He should heat up the cans of soup before he got settled in, but he was too anxious to get started to do that right away. The only preparation he did was grab a spoon, crack open the seal of his liter soda bottle, and of course, weigh himself on the ancient scale he’d stolen from his last foster family. Back then, he’d just done it out of spite because his foster mother had been obsessed with dieting and the loss of the scale would be a nice fuck you. He hadn’t expected the obsession to follow the object to its new owner.

Michael looked at the food, and he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to hurt himself. He didn’t want to feel disgusting, but with all this food already here, he couldn’t think of a way to not eat it, and once he ate it, keeping it in his stomach was out of the question.

Maybe he didn’t have to purge. _If I don’t swallow the food, I don’t have to purge_, the thought tickled at his brain. He could eat the food and then spit it all out. It wouldn’t be the same as purging, but it would be easier.

He started with the chips, chewing them and spitting out each bite into an old whipped cream container, one of the giant ones he’d eaten from when he was trying to binge on foods that were fewer calories (it hadn’t worked). When he got to the ice cream, it felt wrong to just spit it out, but he wasn’t going to purge, he already decided, so he pushed through the unease in his stomach. He didn’t waste time heating the soup, eating it cold and straight from the cans with the spoon he’d used for the ice cream. He went back to the chips. After an hour, the food was all gone, and Michael put the cap on the plastic container, tucking it into a cabinet until he had the energy to deal with it.

When it was all done, Michael was still hungry. The chewing and spitting hadn’t kicked his urge, but at least, all the food was gone now, and Michael was too depleted to search for more. His jaw hurt from all the chewing and acid hit the walls of his stomach angrily. His digestive system had fired up, only to be disappointed when it had been a false alarm.

He forced himself from the floor and dragged his body to his car, feeling too raw and too sober. He drove automatically until he arrived at the cabin. His lips were sore and mouth dry. His stomach burned. _I gotta get better. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t go on like this anymore. I can’t keep waiting for tomorrow to change. _

He looked up at the cabin in all its glory, and he could take a breath. He let oxygen fill his tense body.

Finally, Michael was home. He slipped into the cabin, creeping into the bedroom, flopping onto the bed, and rolling over so that he was close to Alex. Alex, who was handsome and stable and good. _My home is a person._

Michael rolled up onto his elbows so that he was looking over Alex, gazing at that beautiful face. In a near whisper he said, “I’m going to get better. I am. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I will.” His voice was choked with emotion as he made his promise, but he didn’t wait for a response because when Alex slept, he was usually dead to the world. Soft snores filled the air, and only the occasional nightmare would wake Alex. Michael wished he could sleep so easily. He only had nightmares when he was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! Feel free to leave your thoughts or tell me what you want/ expect to happen. Thanks for reading lovely humans. You're all the best.


	12. Coexist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micheal and Alex learn to coexist with his eating disorder.

They were at Alex’s kitchen table, Alex eating breakfast and Michael sipping his black coffee. The morning was quiet, neither of them saying much or feeling the need to say much, but Michael was antsy. There was something he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how Alex would take it, and it wasn’t the kind of thing he’d normally be bold enough to ask. He wasn’t good at conversations.

The sun trickled in through the window, and an old clock ticked steadily, and Michael focused on that instead of his racing heart. “I think we should move into together,” Michael finally blurted.

“When I asked you before—” Before Michael’s eating disorder had gone from bad to worse, Alex had thought Michael should move in, which had been too fast for Michael, especially when he wanted to keep his secrets secret, but Michael was dedicated to doing better, at least a little, and living with someone would keep him accountable.

“Before I had secrets, but I don’t want to have secrets anymore. I’m going to…I’m trying to make some changes, and it’ll be better to do it with you,” he explained, looking down at his coffee, feeling silly for even bringing it up.

“Are you sure?” Michael bristled at Alex’s uncertain tone. _He doesn’t sound happy about this. Maybe he doesn’t want to be stuck with me. I sure wouldn’t want to be stuck with me._

“I’m not going to burden you with my problems if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me or help me. I just thought it would be better not to be alone.” Alex said nothing, looking at Michael like he was a riddle. “You know what? It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s not. I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you’d want this.”

“Move in or get better?”

“Both but mostly the getting better part.”

“Yeah, I surprised myself with that one,” Michael replied with a shaky laugh.

“What changed your mind?”

“I don’t want to be pathetic anymore.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. There are things I’ve done that I could never tell you because they’re so _disgusting_.”

“Then, get better. Learn not to be ashamed.”

“I’m going to try.”

“So you’re moving in?” Alex asked.

“As soon as you’ll have me.”

“Anytime you want.”

Michael leaned over to give Alex a kiss, “Perfect.” He leaned back in his seat and took a gulp of coffee, and it was too strong, but Michael swallowed it anyway.

“You should have more than coffee.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you want to get better, we’re starting today.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think—” Michael wasn’t ready, not today. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

Alex put a hand over Michael’s. “You can’t keep waiting, sweetheart.”

“I’m not going to make big changes overnight.” _I don’t want to deal with this now. I have other thins to worry about, and then, once I take care of those, I can focus on the food stud. _

“It’s just a little breakfast. Have a piece of toast, please.”

“I don’t really like toast.” It tasted good but hurt to get back up.

“What about some eggs?”

“That’s okay.”

“Work with me on this.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “One egg maybe.” Alex went to get up, but Michael stopped him. “No, don’t worry about it. I can do it myself.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Your leg has been hurting,” Michael countered, voice almost pleading. To make sure everything was just as it should be, it was easier just to make his own meals.

“I’m okay, Guerin. Just let me do this so I feel better, okay?”

Michael sighed. “Fine, but use a nonstick pan. I don’t like the oil.”

“Don’t like it or don’t want it?”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t have a nonstick pan,” Alex confessed, carefully watching for Michael’s reaction. Michael deflated, feeling a prickle of anxiety ignite in his stomach.

“Yeah, no. That won’t work.”

“But what if I poach an egg? No oil, just boiling water basically.”

“Whatever. I don’t care.” But he did care, and that was the problem. When he saw Alex crack the egg, he wanted him to put it on a food scale and ensure it was the right size, but he had to push thought away. Bringing it up would come off as crazy. He listened as Alex turned on the stove and put a pan of water on the burner. He waited for Alec to put the egg into the water and forced himself not to intently watch as it cooked. The minutes dragged as Michael waited for a stupid egg he didn’t want.

Finally, it was pushed in front of him on an old plate with a fork.

“You want orange juice with that?”

Michael scoffed like it was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard. _I mean, it is pretty preposterous. _“You want me to drink sugar this early?”

“Water then?”

Michael raised his mug. “Coffee is just fine.”

Alex sat back down. “An egg isn’t that much.”

“Is it large?”

“What?”

“The egg. Is it large?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“It’s about 72 calories then.” _I should’ve had him weigh it. _Michael had a food scale tucked away in his bag, and it felt wrong that his meal was in front of him, unmeasured and cooked in uncertainty. _That’s worse than cooking it in oil. _

“So?” Alex asked, trying to be patient.

“Much more than that and I get myself into trouble.”

“Maybe starving yourself is what gets you into trouble.”

“I eat plenty.”

“And throw it up.”

“But by the time I do, most of it has already been digested, so I probably shouldn’t even be eating this damn egg.”

“Please, just eat it.”

Michael tapped his fork nervously at the edge of the plate. “I will.”

“Before the weekend’s over?” an impatient edge filled his voice. “Sorry, I know you’re trying.”

“I like to fast on Saturdays,” Michael explained. He didn’t mention that he rarely actually accomplished his fast, but damn did it feel good when he did.

“Oh, that makes this extra hard?”

Michael knew he had to be honest if he wanted to improve anything. “It’s like starting the day with a visit to the emergency room. It ruins it before you’ve even done much of anything.”

He eased a bite of egg on his fork and forced it into his mouth. It tasted like rubber, but he swallowed and didn’t let himself make plans of how he could throw it up because he didn’t like to think that he was sick enough that he’d freak over something as objectively silly as eating an egg. _72 calories can be the start of a downward spiral just as easily as 400. _

Michael forced himself to take another bite, washing it with coffee, and then eating another bite. He had yet to touch to yolk. He took a big piece of egg white, swishing it around in his mouth and preparing to swallow.

“I want a calendar on the fridge.” Alex said out of nowhere. Michael nearly choked on the egg in his mouth.

“What?”

“I want you to keep a tally of when you purge. A visual reminder. We don’t have to talk about it. I know that’s hard for you, but I want you to acknowledge what you’re doing. I know it won’t fix anything, but I’d rather know than wonder.”

“I’m not planning on purging.”

“I was just thinking that you probably can’t stop without some hiccups, so I thought it might help keep us both sane.”

“No, you’re being nosy,” Michael’s voice was tense but not angry. He took deep breaths to keep it that way, listening to the clock.

“I know it’s personal—”

“You don’t know anything about it. It’s my business and mine alone.”

“You said you wanted to stop keeping secrets, and I was just trying to think of ways to make our relationship more open without putting too much pressure on you.”

“You’re always trying to fix things.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Sometimes I don’t need you to fix things. I just need you to be there.”

“I know I can’t fix this, Michael, but you can’t do this alone. No one could.”

“I don’t want you to know everything.”

“We’re going to be living together, and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t share this big part of yourself with me. I just worry. I’m not trying to be a control freak.”

“If I do the stupid calendar, will you relax?” Without waiting for a response, Michael stood up with his plate, and Alex grabbed his arm.

“You barely ate it.” The egg yolk was still gooily staring at Michael.

“You can’t control everything, Alex.” Michael said before tossing the egg in the trash. That familiar itch filled his body, but he promised himself that he wasn’t going to let another bite of food enter his mouth because if he did, he wasn’t going to stop.

* * *

The calendar went up the next day, and Michael was determined not to mark up the empty white squares. The numbers would remain lonely if he had any say over it. The thought of Alex seeing when he’d purge kept the binge and purge cycle away for a week. For a week, Michael could rest and not feel a constant burning in his throat. He didn’t eat much but had a couple of meals to keep himself going. It was almost normal, and he wondered if he’d made the whole eating disorder thing up. He couldn’t be disordered if he could resist a whole week of puking, could he?

He’d focused on moving his stuff into the cabin and settling into his new life with Alex. It had felt blissful. To live with his boyfriend and have a peak of how things could be.

But then he’d been unable to take it anymore. He was hungry and anxious, so he’d let himself have a small bowl of ice cream, and before he knew it, he ate the whole container and everything else he could find, and with a round, distended stomach, there was no way he could go to bed like that. He couldn’t let Alex see him being so fat and ugly and out of control.

So, he purged, and with dismay, Michael put the first tick on the calendar. When Alex emerged from their room in the morning and went into the kitchen, he froze looking at the fridge, the smile dropping from his face. Michael felt like the worst person alive. Alex poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from Michael at the table, not bothering to even prepare his breakfast.

“I’m sorry,” Michael finally said because the quiet between them was killing him.

Alex shook his head. “No, it’s okay. These things don’t get better overnight. A week is a long time.” _A week can easily feel like an eternity. _

“When’s the last time you’ve been sick?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. A year at least.”

“See? A week is barely anything. It’s pathetic.”

“Once a week is progress, right? How often is normal?”

“Twice.”

“Okay, then look at it this way: since last week, you’ve cut it in half.”

“I meant twice a day.”

“Oh,” Alex said, trying to keep a positive tone, but his whole face was tensing. “Then you’ve done even better.”

“I’m just saying don’t expect once a week to be normal.”

Alex put a hand over Michael’s. “Okay, but just remember that I’m proud of you for how hard you’ve been trying.” _Save your pride because I’m still a fuckup who can’t control himself. _

Once the first tick had been put on the calendar, the dam broke and Michael couldn’t seem to control his purging. Several mornings later, Alex eyed the three ticks on the calendar from the day before, and Michael had a strong urge to make himself disappear. He’d contemplated leaving the marks off the calendar and fudging the truth, but he hadn’t wanted to betray Alex’s trust when things had finally settled into a predictable rhythm between them.

“Do you need to talk about it?” Alex slid a poached egg in front of Michael.

Michael’s voice was hoarse. “I think I better not have breakfast.”

“You can’t break the binge/purge cycle if you don’t eat. I’ve been reading—”

“If I start eating, I’m not going to stop, and I can’t take another day like yesterday. I’m too tired.”

“Damnit, Michael,” Alex was getting fidgety like he always did when he felt helpless.

“I know it’s stupid, but I’m just so scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’m scared of being hungry, but I’m also scared of not being hungry. I’m scared of purging. I’m scared of not purging. I’m scared of dying, but sometimes, I’m also scared of living.”

“Maybe you should talk to a professional about these feelings.”

“That wouldn’t do anything. You’re here if I want to talk.”

“But I don’t know what to say. It scares the shit out of me that this stuff is so far out of my element. I’m scared too. Scared that I can’t be enough for you. Scared that this will rip us apart. Scared that you’ll die.”

“Nothing that bad has happened yet.” _Or maybe nothing that good has happened yet. _

“Okay, but therapy is something to think about.”

“And I’ve thought about it enough for this morning,” Michael said, pushing away the egg and gulping down his coffee.

Alex grabbed Michael’s arm pulling him closer.

“What do you want?” _I’m not going to eat that egg._

“I love you.” Michael leaned in for kiss, feeling relieved that Alex wasn’t going to try to force him to eat.

“I love you too.” And only if that was enough to cure Michael. If only love was the only medicine he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. Please leave your thoughts. I love hearing them.


	13. Of Purging and Rom Coms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael really wants to purge. Alex really doesn't want him to.

For two weeks, Michael kept his purging down to once every other day, but then week three struck, and Michael found himself purging once every other meal (if not more). He was exhausted, and by week four, Alex had enough of it. After dinner, Michael had binged outside in the shed, his go to spot, and came back inside ready to burst. Trying not to make it obvious what he was doing, he tried to sneak through the cabin and make sure Alex was too distracted by the TV to notice what Michael was doing.

Unfortunately, Alex wasn’t easy to distract and rose to his feet as soon as Michael came in through the doorway. “Michael. Don’t,” Alex said, grabbing Michael’s arm. _I’m wasting time. I need to purge. It can’t wait. The purging window is closing. I’m going to be a fat ass if I don’t do something right now. I can’t let anyone, even Alex get in my way._

Michael ripped his arm away and shook his head. “It’s too late to stop. We have an arrangement, Alex. I’m trying to get better, but today isn’t a good day. I’ll do better tomorrow. I’ll mark it on the calendar like we agreed to.” _I just need to be worse today. I need to fix the damage I’ve done with the binge. I’ll have fewer ticks tomorrow. _

“Let’s sit down for a while.” _He’s trying to distract me from what I need to do, and it’s not going to work. If distractions worked, I would have tried them a long time ago._

“Alex, please. Just let me do it this one last time.” It sounded pathetic to beg, _but I am pathetic, aren’t I? Might as well get something useful out of my hideous existence._

“There’s always another time.” Alex knew that starting tomorrow didn’t work because there was always another tomorrow that would bring no changes. _He knows more about this than I’d like him too._ Michael would keep postponing getting better until he was dead. Alex couldn’t let that happen. _I wish he would. Why can’t he just let me go? Worse… why can’t I let him go? He’d be happier without me._

“I can’t stop,” Michael protested. He was terrified of what would happen if he didn’t purge anymore. He’d eat himself to death. He’d gain weight, and Alex would hate him. He’d be unlovable, and he couldn’t go back to being that unlovable little kid. _I can’t let myself be the person that no one cares about. I can’t live without any affection. Not now that I know what it’s like to have it. _“You don’t know how important this is to me. Think of the most important thing in your life, and now think of someone trying to take that away from you. That’s how I feel, and I’m boiling inside with the need to finish what I started. I can’t just not do it.” _We’ve been talking to long already. He needs to let this go. How to I convince him I’ll be alright?_

“_You’re _the most important thing to me, and someone— something— _is _trying to take you away from me.” Alex’s voice was choked, and Michael hated himself for it. relate

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” _Even if here is torture. He’s the one good thing in my life, and I can’t even make him happy. All I can do is be here and try to be okay._

“Yeah? Well, you can’t put both be in a relationship with me and your eating disorder.” The words echoed through Michael’s body, sending a shiver up his spine.

“I don’t have an eating disorder. I just do stupid things sometimes.” He knew he had food issues, but they weren’t bad enough to be an eating disorder. Alex tried to get him to use that term but saying it still felt wrong to Michael. _You can’t have an eating disorder if you’re fat and worthless. I’m not good enough for an eating disorder._

“I’ve seen the marks on the calendar. You can barely go a day without throwing up. If that isn’t an eating disorder, I don’t know what is. You barely eat and then when you do, you make sure it doesn’t stay in your stomach.”

“I’ve been working on it,” Michael tried to defend himself, but there didn’t seem to be

“You say you are, but you’re still puking just as much, sometimes more.”

“My weight is still shitty, so clearly I’m not very good at getting the junk out. It used to be easier.”

Alex sighed. “You look sick.” Michael was pale, shaky, and exhausted most of the time. He wasn’t sure how he did much of anything. Staying on his feet while he worked was a miracle. _But it’s not because I purge. It’s because I can’t control myself around food. If I could control myself, everything would get better. _

“I don’t feel sick.”

“That’s such a fucking lie, Guerin.”

“I’ve accepted that I’m going to feel shitty for the rest of my life. There’s not much either of us can do about it. I’ve tried fighting it, and clearly, that didn’t work, so why change? Why expect that things can get better?” _I need to stop talking so much and get to throwing up. I have 5,000 calories waiting in my stomach._

Alex set a hand on Michael’s arm, not latching on but steadying him. “Michael, please. You’re fading, and it’s getting harder to find you in the noise of your illness.”

“I don’t like this anymore than you do,” Michael bit out sharply. “It’s disgusting, I know, but what can I do?” Rage surged through Michael at the thought of having to change. _I need to keep things how they are. Change is scary and uncertain. If I’m not disciplined with myself, things could take a turn for the worse. _

“Change. For fuck’s sake, put an end to this.”

“I’ve made changes already. Haven’t I done enough?” Michael’s voice cut off, his throat burning. He hated this. He hated that he couldn’t just be a normal person. He hated that this thing in his head convinced him to do stupid things, but he was terrified of letting it go. Letting it go would feel like defeat. Letting it go would feel like giving up a part of himself. Letting it go would feel like loneliness.

“Yeah, you’ve done quite enough. Your body can’t take this much longer.” _I can handle whatever I do to my body. I’m not human. I’m something else. Something with unknowable limits._

“I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise. But tonight, I need to finish what I started.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I’ll win the lottery.” He let Michael’s arm go, and Michael immediately missed the warmth.

“I’m sorry.” _I’m sorry that life sucks so much and that I’m the worst person to ever be on earth._

“You’re not sorry, Michael. If you were, you would stop.” If only it were that easy, but he couldn’t stop just because he was sorry. This thing was stronger than that. It pulled him away from his sense and his feelings and turned him into a distant version of himself.

“I am sorry. I’m sorry that my body hurts, and that I waste my time worrying about what’s going into my body and what’s coming out. I’m sorry that I can’t be the boyfriend you want. I’m sorry that Michael Guerin doesn’t exist anymore. I’m sorry I’ve put you through hell. I’m sorry I was ever born, or hatched, or whatever. I’m sorry for it all, but I don’t know how to get better. All I know is to be fucking sorry for it all.”

“Michael…”

“Don’t pity me.”

“So what do you want me to do? How are we supposed to be us?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you, at least,” Michael added, not sure if it mattered anymore.

“I know, but that doesn’t get us anywhere. You need help that I can’t give you.”

“What are you saying?” Michael’s voice went up an octave.

“I can’t do this anymore.” A tear rolled down Alex’s face, but Michael didn’t have the courage to reach out and brush it away. “We can’t go on like this.”

Panic filled Michael. _I’ve finally pushed him too far. He’s going to leave me. He’s seen that I’m not worth the effort. _Tears pricked Michael’s eyes, but he pushed them back. _Crying gets you in trouble. “_Are you breaking up with me?”

“No,” Alex hurried to say, stepping closer to Michael. “No, that’s not what I want at all, but we can’t ignore the elephant in the room. Our relationship is crumbling because you hate yourself.” The words took the air out of Michael.

He caught his breath. “I hate myself? That’s what you think? I don’t hate myself.” _I just don’t love myself._

“You hate yourself, Michael, and I can’t watch you kill yourself while I stand helplessly by.”

“I’m not killing myself.” _But I wouldn’t mind if I was dead._

“Don’t you see that your body could give out at any moment? Every time you make yourself throw up, you’re playing Russian roulette, and I live in terror that I’m going to find you dead on the bathroom floor. One time when you pull the trigger, you aren’t going to get back up.”

“I wish I could make you feel better.” The only thing Michael wouldn’t do to make Alex feel better was stop purging. There was no one on Earth, or any planet, that he’d stop purging for, least of all himself.

Alex looked like he wanted to shake Michael. _I deserve it, but it wouldn’t make a difference. Nothing does. _“I don’t want you to make me feel better! I want you to get better.”

“I’m getting better. It’s been a bad week, but I’m doing better mostly.” They both knew that wasn’t true. He had better days, sometimes, but overall, he’d been sliding back. He’d been sneaky, and if he was honest with himself, he’d sometimes “forgot” to put all the ticks on the calendar. He’d thrown up in secret in bags in the shed or at work. He’d snuck off the airstream and binged and purged and binged and purged and binged and purged until there were specks of blood in his vomit and deep abrasions on his hands. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he wasn’t really better.

“No, you’re not. You don’t even try, Michael. You tell me you’ll be better tomorrow, but you know you’re not going to be. You know it the second you say it, and I hate how stupid I am to believe it every time. I desperately want it to be true, so I give you the benefit of the doubt and then I’m heartbroken when nothing changes.” The sad part was that Michael told himself the same crap. Every day he woke up, promising himself to be better, but by the time night came around, he’d go to bed promising himself that he wasn’t going to eat to make up for all the damage he had done. It was an endless circle of self-delusion. _And I’m the dummy who falls for it every time. _

“I don’t mean to fool you. When I say it, I intend on changing, really… but… I don’t mean to fool you.”

Alex scoffed. “Honesty is your worst enemy. You lie to me about what you eat or what you’re doing after meals, but I’m not an idiot. I know you purge all the time. Six times yesterday alone, at least that I could count. You only put three up on the calendar.” It had been a bad day. “It was awful, and as I was listening to you not keeping anything down, I realized that you might not make it out of this.”

Michael hung his head. “It’s disgusting, I know. _I’m disgusting._”

“Don’t say that.” Alex took Michael’s hands in his, squeezing Michael’s disturbingly cold hands. “Sweetheart, that’s not the issue and you know it.”

“It’s never been this bad before.” It didn’t make sense that this spiral had been so much worse than all the others. His life was better now, so why did he seem even more intent on destroying it? _I’m a self-destructive jackass. _

“Which is why we need to get someone else involved in this. Our relationship can’t be between me, you, and your eating disorder. It’s too much. I don’t want to compete with your mental illness because I can’t win. You can’t win. The only thing that happens is that one day, you die.”

Michael had to laugh. “I never thought vomit would be the thing that destroys us.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I don’t want it to, but it’s not healthy for either of us to keep on this way. I’m going crazy, Michael. We have to take a step in a new direction. You don’t have to be better overnight, but you have to get better. Please, I’m begging you to get better.”

“I just need to _take care of_ the food first, and then I can stop eating too much, and I won’t need to purge ever again.” Michael knew he was bargaining with himself and that such behavior could never lead to recovery, but the anxiety was building, and purging would relieve it. _I need to go now._

“You can’t give in, Guerin. You have to learn to sit with your feelings. Come on, we’ll put on a rom com and we’ll wait out your urges.” _Waiting them out. As if they won’t come back with a vengeance the minute that I see myself in the mirror or step on the scale._

“I don’t watch rom coms,” Michael said with a small smile.

Alex smirked. “We both know that’s a lie. Come on, we’ll watch Knotting Hill and cuddle on the couch. You love Hugh Grant. He’s _dreamy_.” Alex pulled Michael to sit on the couch, bundling him in a blanket and cuddling up beside him.

Michael normally was tactile, loved being touched, but when he was like this, stuffed and bloated, being touched felt wrong. He didn’t want Alex to feel the bigness of his body, especially the protrusion of his stomach.

He pushed Alex away. Yet, he missed Alex’s touch. It had been a long time it seemed since they’d felt true intimacy, sexual or otherwise. They’d had sex, but it hadn’t been that deep connection that Michael loved so much. It had been rushed and felt perfunctory. It was hard for Michael to get in the mood when he always felt like he was carrying twenty extra pounds._ I want to feel him again, but I don’t want him to feel me._

Alex looked hurt when Michael scooted away, putting more space between them. “I don’t like you feeling me like this,” Michael said softly, and he couldn’t say the word fat or gross or hideous, but they lingered in the air.

Alex brushed a hand against Michael’s arm, easing just two inches closer, not enough to scare Michael away. “You’re like you always are. Wonderful and my favorite person.” Michael’s heart fluttered. He’d never been anyone’s favorite person before.

“My stomach hurts,” Michael complained as he laid down on the couch, letting his head rest on Alex’s shoulder. He felt like he was going to explode he was so full. “Why did I have to eat so much? I’m such an idiot.” He wanted to break down. Sob. Be a cry baby, but instead, he let the feelings suffocate them, cramping his too small body. _As fat as it is, it can’t hold all the feelings I have._

Alex kissed a spot on Michael’s head, where the curls were the wildest. “You’re brilliant.”

“I didn’t even go to college and I barely have a job. Let’s face it. I haven’t done anything with my life, not anything worthwhile.” _I’m a giant waste of space._

“That’s not true. Even if it was, it doesn’t change that you’re brilliant.” Alex began to rub circles in Michael’s back as he flipped on the TV, finding Knotting Hill and putting it on. “Do you need anything?”

Michael shook his head. “I’ve had quite enough,” he said with a grim laugh. “I wish I could stop being me.”

“I don’t,” Alex said, even though he knew it wouldn’t change Michael’s mind about anything. “You’ll get better. We just need to get you extra help.” _He means a therapist. He’s going to make me see a therapist, and I’ll probably do it to appease him, but I’m not going to talk._

“I feel worse.”

“What’s good for you doesn’t always feel good.”

“Yeah, that’s what I tell myself when I puke,” Michael said wryly.

“Puking isn’t good for you.”

“It feels good.” _It does, even if it also feels bad._

Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t feel good. It feels like relief. Those are two very different things.”

“Maybe they are.” But Michael had yet to differentiate the two. In his head, they were the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update. I am slow but will get this done sooner or later. Thanks for the patience. I love you all and hope you are doing well!


	14. Burgeoning Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael goes to therapy.

* * *

**Burgeoning Feelings**

* * *

Eyes unfocused, Michael fidgeted nervously in a hard armchair with tough fabric meant to endure all the nervous, fidgety people who’d sat in it thousands of times before. The cushion was nearly flat from all the asses that had been in it. _Think of all the crazy people who have been here. None of them as crazy as me. At least they’re real people. I’m just an alien who has no place being here. _The room smelled stale with trace hints of vanilla from a candle that had been lit hours ago to try to cover up the antiseptic smell, which covered up the body odor and bad breath that had permeated the air before Michael came. No matter how hard anyone tried, there was no covering up what this place was in all its clinical glory. Michael hated it here, but he did what he had to do to get through the appointment. He’d gone up against a whole lot worse than a tiny shrink who looked like she’d blow away in the wind.

He felt like he was under a microscope, and as an alien, that was Michael’s worst nightmare. Wendy Copeland, LPC was looking at him with her twinkly brown eyes. Her smile was unnerving. She was one of those obnoxious people who was happy all the time, and she was probably the type that thought that if everyone shared at least one smile per day, there could be world peace. Michael didn’t believe in that bullshit, and no amount of therapy would make him believe that. He’d never be the type of idiot who smiled at strangers. All Wendy’s smile made him was angry, quietly angry. _I’m not crazy enough to be outwardly angry at a woman trying to be nice. _Micheal didn’t trust nice people. All the nice people that he’d met had wanted something from his. _Except for Alex. Alex has always been inexplicably nice to me. _So he was wary of Wendy even though she seemed like one of the nicest people on the planet. _Too nice, and that’s why I can’t trust her. _

This was his third session with Wendy, whose chipper voice was piercing Michael's patience as she asked him about his week and tried to get him to share scandalous shit about the past with her subtle questions that prodded much deeper than Michael could stand, but Alex had said she came highly recommended, so Michael had chosen her from the list of shrinks that Alex had compiled. Highly recommended by who, he didn’t know, but if he trusted anyone, he trusted Alex. Besides, if Michael had to find his own therapist, he’d gotten overwhelmed and quit before he found anyone. _Luckily, Alex is good at that kind of thing. He’s actually competent unlike me. I’m just a handyman who can’t even fix his own life. I don’t even know why I’m trying. This is so stupid. Why would I think that some bubbly lady could help me?_

She pivoted the conversation from the normal pleasantries at the beginning of the session, and she got to the deeper questions she had, which almost made Michael miss the pleasantries. _“_Let me ask you this. Do you binge to purge or purge to binge?” Michael mentally froze and felt his heart beating heavily in his chest. _I shouldn’t be here. She’s going to know I’m nothing more than a freak who doesn’t belong here. She’s going to see that I’m not like the other patients she sees. I’m a deviant, and there’s no fixing that. I’m stuck being a person who I hate, and I don’t know how to be someone who other people love. _

“What?” Michael’s voice sounded hollow, and the question felt weirdly invasive considering that this whole experience was invasive. _I need to remember that I’m doing this for Alex. _“Why does it even matter?” _Because she thinks that if she keeps asking questions that she can figure out, but I’d prefer not to be known. _

She wrote something down and gave him a sympathetic look like he was a puppy who had gotten himself tangled up in his leash and was whining. “I want to get an idea of the chicken versus the egg when it comes to your purging. You don’t have to think about it too hard. Tell me whatever answer is your instinct.” Michael had relied on his instinct all his life. He’d needed it just to survive the years of neglect and abuse, but his instincts were dormant at the moment. _They don’t serve me when I need them anymore. They run me right into things that are going to get me hurt. I can’t trust my own gut._

“How am I to know?” Michael wanted to roll his eyes at her. _She thinks that she’s so smart with all her degrees and years of experience, but when it comes to me, she still knows jack shit. _

She persisted. “Do you like purging?” _For someone so smiley, she can be awfully blunt, _which Michael supposed was her job. She wanted to drag out his darkest secrets, and he wasn’t sure if those secrets were something that he ever wanted to share. Michael didn’t see a point in remembering being a scared and lonely kid. How he was then couldn’t be changed.

Michael sputtered, “Why would I. It sucks, and it ruins my life, so like is the wrong word. It’s not fun like a kid going to a fair.” Michael had never been to a fair as a kid, but he figured that was something normal kids would like.

“You can like things that aren’t fun. People can be funny that way.” _Yeah, lots of people love puking, sure, whatever you say, lady. _Logically, Michael knew that there were other people out there like him, but it didn’t feel like it when he was bent over the toilet wondering how he’d become more familiar with it than his boyfriend or when he was stuffing food in his face and not even taking the time to taste it. For someone who loved the taste of food, he sure didn’t taste much food. He let it skip his tongue and go straight down his throat and then brought it back up again. When it came back up, it tasted different. He tasted the puke in his mouth more than the food going down. _It’s pathetic. _

What he did wasn’t what you saw in movies. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t even satisfying. It was pathetic and messy and soul-sucking. It wasn’t a dainty finger tickling a uvula and a swift exit of the food neatly into the porcelain bowl in one pristine motion. The stench of vomit wasn’t one you could wash away from your hands with warm water and lavender soap. The odor lingered like the sinking feeling when the puke has clogged the toilet or the shower or whatever inappropriate space becomes a vomit receptacle. What Michael did was shameful, and pathetic. It had driven him to do things that he wasn’t sure he’d ever confess to anyone. _Some things are better left unknown._ Alex had seen some of it, but what Alex saw was the sanitized version, and even the sanitized version was messy and disgusting.

“You don’t get it.” She didn’t know what it was like to be vibrating with pent up feelings with no way to release them other than self-destructive behaviors like purging and pushing people away. Michael was broken, and it wasn’t something that Miss Smiley could relate to. Michael knew that he was being unfair in his judgments, but the critical beast inside wouldn’t let up.

“Maybe not, but it’s my job to listen. Whatever you have to say, I won’t judge you for it.” _There’s no way a perky person like her could hear all the shit I do and not judge me. I judge myself, so of course, she will too. No one can handle my bullshit. That’s why everyone decides I’m not worth the effort and I end up alone until someone needs a favor. It’s shitty, but it’s how it is. I’ve made peace with being a pariah._

“What if I killed someone?” Michael deadpanned. He’d done a lot of things that he didn’t think she’d approve of. _If I told her the whole truth, maybe she’d tell me to leave and never come back. That might be the only way I can get her to shut up and leave me alone. She’s persistent but everyone has a breaking point._

To Michael’s surprise, Wendy chuckled. She didn’t seem to be the type to find dark humor funny, but she had an unnerving way of catching Michael off guard. “If you did, I hope you have a good excuse.”

“I think that’s a story for another day,” Michael replied, and Wendy’s eyes remained bright. _I have a lot of good stories that I could tell her if I could tell her the full truth._

“So, let’s focus on today’s story, then. Are you ready to answer my question?”

Michael rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what she was referring, but he played dumb. “What question?” Michael could answer a lot of questions. He had a brilliant mind, but the questions that might save his life made his mouth go dry. He was never quite sure what to say. Mostly, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be happy.

He didn’t seem to fool her, but she repeated it anyway. “Do you binge to purge or do you purge to binge.”

“Both?” Michael wasn’t sure what the correct response was. Either one would lead to the conclusion that he was fucked up. _That’s for sure._

“Do you care to elaborate on that?” He didn’t, but the appointment was going to drag if he didn’t say something to appease her, and it was already dragging enough as it was.

“Well, I don’t know. They both have pros and cons.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I have the words for what I mean without sounding stupid.” _I’m the world’s biggest idiot apparently. I can’t even talk about the thing that has taken over my life. How pathetic. _

“You don’t need to give me an intelligent or even intelligible response. I just want to get you thinking about your feelings and reconnecting to them.”

Michael looked down at his hands. “I don’t know why I like it.” He wasn’t interested in listening to what she had to say, but he figured it didn’t hurt to tell her a little. It’s not like he had anyone else to talk to. Alex got too worried when they talked about what Michael was doing, and everyone else didn’t know what was happening. So, maybe he could give a little to Wendy, who was professionally sworn to secrecy. Just to get it off his chest. Talking about it didn’t mean that he had to change it.

He didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s gross to want to do something like that so much. It doesn’t feel good, but it also does. I hate myself for eating so much food. The eating feels wrong and shameful… but the after part… that part despite it not physically feeling good, it feels mentally good. It gives me a rush that even the food can’t. ”

“Why do you think that is?” Michael really hated that question. Wasn’t Wendy the expert here? Shouldn’t she be able to tell him? He wanted her to give him answers instead of making him work for them, but that wasn’t the point of therapy, was it?

He shrugged. “It wasn’t always that way. When I was a kid… The food used to be what was important.” Back when he wasn’t sure when he’d get his next meal. “Now, it’s the other part that makes me feel good.”

“What changed?” She looked interested in what he had to say, and it scared Michael. When people got too interested, he learned that’s when they wanted something from him that he wouldn’t want to give.

Michael was starting to feel frustrated again, a sharp surge of anxiety filling his stomach. “How the hell am I to know?”

“What shifted from the time you were a child to now?” Memories from Michael’s childhood flashed through his mind. Memories of being hungry and not knowing if he’d be fed. Memories of digging through the trash for something to eat. Memories of being forced to eat potatoes. His hunger had been used against him as a punishment, and now, he was the one in charge.

“I grew up, I guess.” He got the hell out of the foster system and became his own keeper. He ate what he wanted. He threw up what he didn’t want. He took charge of his hunger, and then he let it free and trample all over him.

“But you still have the same feelings that you did as a child. They don’t go away.

“Time’s up,” Michael said before they could continue the conversation any further.

Wendy sighed, looking at her clock. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll see you next week, Michael. Just think about what I said, okay? We’ll talk more then.”

“Yeah, sure,” Michael said halfheartedly. It’s not like he was here to get better, anyway. He was just trying to get Alex off his back. _Nothing can make me better. I’m stuck like this, and it’s not so bad most of the time. So I puke a lot and disgust my boyfriend with my crazy behaviors. Lots of people endure harder things. There’s no reason for me to be a baby about it. I need to sick up all these wretched feelings and not let myself wallow in them. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been eight years, but I am back, and hoping to update more regularly. Thanks so much for reading.


	15. Sensin Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Michael have a chat.

* * *

**Sensing Pain**

* * *

Michael hadn’t been trying to run into anyone, especially someone as persistent as Maria DeLuca. All he wanted was to shop for his binge food and be done with it, so he could sneak off to the airstream and pretend like he’s getting better even though he still cannot get himself under control. _I can’t even listen to myself. I’m the dumbest alien alive. I’m not even superior to the worst of humans. _Technically, he was puking less, but progress was never permanent. He was oscillating between getting better and getting worse. _I’m sick of the constant battle. This isn’t worth it. Sometimes, I wish I could just die and be done with it. That would be better than having to go on like this. _

When Maria tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Hey, Guerin,” he nearly jumped out of his skin, feeling like he’d been caught with a skeleton in his cart. _It’s just junk food, _he tried to remind himself, but his stomach soured. It was never just junk food. _It’s the enemy, and it’s out to make me fat and unlovable, but it’s fine because that’s exactly what I am. Alex only loves me because he’s a good person, and for whatever reason, he thinks I’m good enough to tolerate. I’d be better off gone. Alex would be sad for a while, but then, he’d realize that he’d be happier with someone else._

“Hey,” he replied, unable to say anything else through his panic. _What the hell am I going to do to get out of this? I’m not in a talking mood, and she’s going to want to talk. _He’d neglected his friendship with Maria lately. _Because I’m the worst. _With everyone really, and he didn’t want to have to explain why he’d pretty much just vanished from everyone’s lives except when Alex dragged him along to places, which he did more often than Michael liked. _Seeing people means being seen, and I’m not super into that._ To be honest, if he could, he would have hidden away and never left his house. Guilt twisted his stomach, making him feel sick. _I haven’t even eaten any food yet!_

“We need to talk,” Maria said, giving him a stern look, and Michael felt like she was staring into his soul. Maria had a freaky way of knowing things about people that she shouldn’t have had any power to know. Sometimes, it was like she was one of them— the aliens— having inexplicable powers that had something to do with their origins. He supposed she was just really good at knowing people. She made a living being able to talk through problems with the drunks of Roswell, Michael included. Her eyes met his with unflinching pressure. He tried to think if there was anything in his cart that would give his dark secret. _Only the secret that you like junk food more than any normal person. _It’s not like he had anything that screamed, “I’m a bulimic and living in a hell of his own making.” Yeah, there was no way that she could see that, could she? Marie’s powers were limited, and not that specific, so maybe she could tell that something was wrong, but she wouldn’t know what.

Michael tried to play it cool, putting on his usual self-confident grin. “I don’t remember scheduling any conversations.” Maria didn’t look amused. _Some people have no sense of humor!_

“That’s why we need to talk. I’m worried about you.” Their relationship wasn’t supposed to be serious. It was supposed to be lighthearted and fun, _but real friendships have to get serious sometimes. You have to be vulnerable on occasion, even if it sucks. _It was easy to share the good time but coming clean about all the bad times. That was not something Michael knew how to do. How did he let someone into the worst part of himself? She could easily reject him, tell him that he’s strange, and then convince Alex that he wasn’t worth Alex’s effort. _If Alex had a look outside the Michael Guerin bubble, he’d see that I’m not worth anyone’s energy. I’m too selfish to let him go, so I hang on and try to be a person he can like, but I can’t even like myself._

He decided that he wasn’t going to let her worry shake him. He could be vulnerable some other time. _I need to pretend that nothing’s wrong. _“What’s there to worry about?” _Fuck, does she know? Does she somehow know, and does she want to talk about it? _This was Michael’s nightmare. “I’m better than ever. I’m in a committed, healthy relationship. That’s a first for me,” and his voice didn’t quite sound right even to himself, and he knew Maria would catch that something was off even if she didn’t know why. _She can never know why. She’d think that I was crazy, and it’s already hard enough having Alex on my case about this. And Wendy. Wendy thinks her sessions can help. Alex thinks that he can help, but nothing helps. I’m lost in this disorder, and there’s no coming out of it. _

She narrowed her eyes. “You kind of disappeared, Guerin, and I’m not sure why.”

“I’ve been busy.” He’d been trying to keep himself busy, at least, working more and leaving less time for binging. It hadn’t been helping, though, and instead, he spent more time doing other things and just as much time binging and purging. Sleep was the thing he’d cut out. _I could really use some of that._ “Speaking of busy, I have to finish getting a few more things,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you later.” He turned to walk the other way, even though he wanted the ice cream right where she was standing.

“Hold on, not so fast. I want to spend time with you. Finish up in here and meet me at my place.” She left no room for debate, and Michael was too tired to try. She’d corner him some other time if he didn’t talk now.

“Let’s go to the airstream.” He wanted any talking done on his territory, where he felt safe. He didn’t think he’d left anything incriminating there. He usually cleaned up after his binges, not right away but before the next binge.

“You still have that? I thought you moved in with Alex.” Alex and Maria still hung out a lot, so while Michael hadn’t kept her up to date on his life, surely, Maria knew most of it via Alex. Though, Alex was sworn to secrecy on the whole eating food and throwing up thing, and Michael didn’t think that he would betray that trust. _There’s no way that she can know. I’m safe._

“I did, but the airstream and I have too much history together for me to just give it up.”

“Does Alex know?” Alex knew that he still had it, but he didn’t know that he still used it for binging and purging because for obvious reasons, he hadn’t shared that tidbit. Maybe Alex had guessed, but he hadn’t confronted Michael bout it. What happened in the airstream stayed in the airstream and those were the purges that Michael didn’t record on his calendar. The bonus ones that he kept to himself. _Some things are just for me._

“I don’t keep secrets from him.” _Not too many. Nothing that important. Just the ones that he wouldn’t understand. Just the ones that he would try to stop._

“That’s good. Let’s wrap up and then I’ll see you there.”

“I won’t be long,” he said. _I won’t have enough time to shop as thoroughly I would like but spending another hour in a corner store would suspicious. _

“Okay,” Maria said and went to finish up getting whatever she was getting. He hadn’t even bothered to look because that felt like an invasion of privacy.

Michael hurried as quickly as he could to get the rest of his binge food, even though his binge had been effectively ruined. If all went well, he could still do it after.

When he got to the airstream, Maria was already there. He opened the airstream and told her to wait outside. “I’m just going to get some chairs. The air is fresher out here.” He didn’t think he left anything incriminating on the floor, but the smell was tainted, and if they were having a serious conversation, he didn’t want to be in a tiny space.

He opened a folding chair for her and then one for himself. “Sit,” he told her, and then took a seat next to her. “How are you doing,” he asked, and he wasn’t big on small talk. He wasn’t much of a talker most of the time in general, but small talk was better than whatever else Maria wanted to say.

“I’m fine. I’d ask you the same, but I can tell that you’re not fine. I can sense that you’re in pain.” Oh no, she was doing her psychic thing.

“My shoulder hurts a little from lifting too much crap, but I’m fine. Things like that happen.”

“Not that kind of pain. Emotional pain.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t go through a bunch of crappy foster homes unscathed,” he said it as a joke even though none of that was funny.”

“You want to talk about it?” He had a feeling that she would press until he told her something. He needed to be vulnerable if he wanted to reassure her that he was going to be okay.

_Give her a childhood sob story and then she won’t even consider that you might have a disorder._

“My one foster mom, Sharon, loved potatoes. Sharon wasn’t very nice, so I kind of hate them.” He was starting slow and felt stupid for still feeling like a little, hurt child. Sharon hadn’t been _that _bad. She just didn’t like Michael. “Sharon punished me a lot. Mostly, she’d just tell me how awful I was, and she’d just stop talking to me altogether and tell her real kids that they couldn’t talk to me either.” He took a breath. _This is harder to talk about than I thought._

“She made me feel like I didn’t exist. Nothing too crazy, but every time after she screamed at me for what felt like hours, it was like a flip switched and nothing had happened. She’d go into the kitchen, joking and laughing with her kids and start to make dinner. She always made potatoes, so she’d start by chopping those. If I tried to talk to me, no one would talk back. All I’d hear was the knife against the potatoes.” _What a dumb kid I was._

“When dinner was ready, I’d have this irrational anger towards the potatoes, but I wasn’t allowed to say no to anything that she served, so I’d always have to eat so many potatoes, and if there were any left over, she’d make me eat those too for complaining. She’d not eat potatoes just so there would be more left. I’d have to eat them until I was too sick to eat anymore.” _My therapist would have a field day with that fun fact. _“But the worst part was having to sit alone in the other room before dinner, watching her chop them in the kitchen. I’d just see her chopping those potatoes and be filled with dread, and they still fill me with dread.” _And I use them to punish myself just like she punished me._

“That’s awful. That shouldn’t have happened to you.” Maria looked sad and confused. “But you eat them all the time.”

“It’s complicated.” To answer that question, he’d only create more questions, and it would turn into a full out Michael Guerin vulnerability session, and while sharing terrible shit might feel good, he didn’t want to unload all of this on Maria. That wouldn’t be fair to her, and more than that _I don’t want her to know how broken I really am. _

“Uncomplicate it.” Her voice leaves no room for backing out in classic Michael Guerin fashion, but he was going to try to anyway.

“That’s a job for my therapist.” He laughed, trying to make a joke out of it. Maria’s face didn’t change. She looked more curious if anything.

“You have a therapist?” _Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I should have known that she’d see beyond the joke. She’s too perceptive for my bullshit. I should have made friends with dumber people. _

Michael could feel himself closing off. “It’s not because I’m a freak or anything like that.”

“I know that,” Maria insisted, trying to keep her tone calm. _Everyone knows that I’m easy to spook when it comes to emotions. She thinks that I’m emotionally fragile, and I hate it. _

“Alex just thought it was a good idea, and I thought it might help our relationship.”

“What made _you_ decide it was a good idea?” _I didn’t want to disappoint Alex. I don’t care about myself, that’s for sure._

“I still don’t think I need it, but I need Alex and me to be okay, so I’m trying to salvage the one good thing that I have.” Maria looked hurt at the comment. “I didn’t mean it like that. He’s just the only one who knows that I’ve been struggling.”

“He said you’ve been fighting a lot lately.” _We’re both stressed, and I’m crazy._

“Yeah, and I bet he told you that it’s all my fault,” and Michael said it more defensively than he intended. _Even though it is all my fault for being so fucked up and frustrating. I’m surprised that Alex sticks around with a lump of uselessness like me._

Maria raised her eyebrows. “No, that’s not what he said. He just said that you had some issues to work through as a couple.”

“Yeah, but we all know that I’m the one who causes trouble.”

“Alex has caused plenty of trouble too. I’ve known him since we were kids, so I know that just like anyone he can let his past hurts block of his view of how to handle the current situation.” She was trying to be diplomatic, and Michael wasn’t sure if he appreciated it or if her efforts made him angry.

“You don’t get it. The thing we’re fighting over. It’s all about me. It’s about who I am.”

“About you being an alien?”

Michael looked up sharply. “You know about that?”

Maria shrugged. “It’s a long story, but I know. I’ve known for a while.”

“And you don’t want to kill me for keeping it a secret?” She didn’t even look angry. She looked resigned.

“I _was_ mad. I didn’t talk to Liz for a while because of it. Or Isobel or anyone really. You weren’t around to be mad at. But I’m over it now, and I’m not going to yell at you when you’re already in so much pain.”

“I’m not in pain,” Michael insisted. _Not more than normal, anyway._

Maria wasn’t convinced. “I have a gift of knowing things without people having to tell me them.” Michael had seen her gift in play before. She’d used it on him too, but she’d never looked at him with such certainty when using it. The look made him shift in his seat. _She knows. She knows something is wrong, so there’s no point in trying to hide anymore. She knows what I am, and if I let her, she can know who I am._ _I could tell her what’s happening. Then, Alex would have someone to talk to about it, and I can trust her to leave me alone about it. Well, as much as anyone would leave me alone about it._

Michael knew that it was impulsive, but he had a sudden urge to confide in her because keeping it a secret wasn’t making him feel better. Telling just one person who he’d barely talked to in months wouldn’t be that bad, would it? “There’s something wrong with me, Maria.” He says her name softly, and her eyes soften, knowing that he’s about to tell her something he’s barely been able to tell himself. “It’s been going on a while, and I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”

“Are you sick?” she asks, and Michael contemplates the answer. _Am I sick? I don’t look sick. Sometimes, I feel sick, but other times, it doesn’t feel bad. I’ve been through worse. I’m not at death’s door, but any binge, any purge could go wrong. I can’t see the damage I’ve done to my body, so it may be there. It may not be there. So, I’m okay for now, but I don’t know when I won’t be okay. It’ll be too late when I take things too far. I’m risking it all each time I engage in these nasty behaviors. But I can’t stop because I don’t feel sick. The behaviors make me feel alive for just a while. They let me breathe. They make me forget how guilty I feel for merely existing. _

“Sort of, I guess. You know how I was talking about the potatoes earlier?” _Might as well tie my dysfunctional existence together. Maybe it will make it easier to understand. Or maybe it will make me look more messed up. Whatever. _

She looked bewildered and sorrow returned to her face. “Yeah. What about them?” _They may be the thing that started it all. I may never be able to eat one normally again. I hate them, but I still stuff my face with them._

“I eat them sometimes, and a bunch of other foods that I don’t want. I don’t like it, but I eat them anyway, even though it makes me feel sick to do so.” _Was that clear enough? _

Maria looked uncertain. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. You force yourself to eat foods that you don’t enjoy? Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that.” _It’s more than even I know. I don’t know where this disorder ends and I begin. We’ve become so enmeshed that I feel as though we are the same no matter how much I try to distinguish myself and become a person outside of this chaos that I’ve created to cope._

“Okay…” _I’m messing this up. I need to just tell her and be done with it. Unleash this ugly secret on her and stop being such a weirdo about it. Just tell the truth. For once, tell the truth._

“I… uh… well… I throw up after I eat.” He paused, hoping she’d cut in with a laugh, and think that he was joking. He could take it back. It wasn’t too late, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, and he kept telling the truth. “On purpose.” Her face was still blank, so Michael kept talking. “Not with everything I eat. I’m not _that_ bad, but with a good portion of it. Always potatoes and some other stuff that I don’t let myself have normally.” _Stuff that disgusts me and makes me disgusting. _He was talking too much, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “I’ve done it for years, and mostly I’m fine, so it’s _not_ that big of a deal, but it’s still a thing. Something I have to live with.” Michael clamped his mouth shut before he could say anything else. _What if she thinks I’m lying? What if she laughs at me? What if she tells me that it’s not even an issue? _

Maria was silent for a moment, trying to process the words that he’d just told her. Several expressions flashed on her face, but Michael was only looking at her through his periphery, so he couldn’t identify the exact nature of those expressions. “Oh, Michael,” she finally said, and the way she said Michael like it was delicate made him feel pathetic. He regretted saying anything. _I’m so stupid._ _I’m such a loser. Why did I tell her what a freak I am? Some things are best left to the imagination, but I couldn’t even do that. I’m such a fucking moron. A fat fucking moron. _

_I need to fix this. _“It’s really weird, I know, and I’m trying to stop.” He couldn’t look her in the eyes. He just couldn’t. “Some days are better than others.” Today had been bad. He’d already purged three times, which was better than some days but worse than many. He’d been trying to stick to less than once per day, but that hadn’t been working so well this week. “You don’t need to be, like, worried.”

“That’s pretty heavy stuff.”

“I didn’t mean to burden you. You can forget about it. It’s fine. I just thought you’d want to know why I was acting so weird lately.”

“I didn’t mean that it’s a burden. I just meant that it sucks that you’re going through it, but I’m glad you shared it with me.” She took a breath. “It’s just hard to imagine.”

“I know I look fine but…”

She shook her head. “You look sick. Pale, tired, sad. But I didn’t know. I didn’t notice.”

“You weren’t supposed to. I’ve been hiding this since I was like eighteen.”

Surprise filled her face. “It’s been that long?”

“It waxes and wanes, but it’s always been there to some extent, and it’s always been a secret.” _Not that there had been many people to tell when I first started doing it. “_Actually, you’re the first person I’ve told.”

“You can’t keep this from Alex,” her voice is firm. “I won’t tell him, but you need to.” If Alex hadn’t found out, he sure as hell wouldn’t be telling Maria right now.

“I’m not. He knows. But I didn’t tell him. He found out on his own,” which had been one of the most mortifying experiences of Michael’s life. “So, you’re the first person who I’m choosing to tell, which is kind of huge.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.” _He still doesn’t take it well. _

Michael cringed. “He doesn’t like surprises very much. It’s caused a lot of issues, but also kind of the reason we moved in together or at the least the thing that caused us to finally do it.” _Some good does come from the beast, and that’s what makes it so hard to say goodbye. Sometimes, it looks so innocent and even helpful._

“All that food you bought today…” He wished that she hadn’t seen that. There was no denying what he’d planned _and was still planning _to do with that. “… that’s because of this?”

“It’s wasteful and stupid and selfish, but… I can’t help it sometimes.” _Because I’m the worst person on Earth, and I’m not even a person. I’m just an alien who doesn’t belong here. Maybe I don’t belong anywhere._

“You’re doing your best.” _If this is my best, I don’t want to see my worst._

“I’m surviving, and I guess that’s what I do best.” For most of his life, it was all he had the luxury of doing.

“I’m sorry,” Maria said.

“Why are you sorry, DeLuca?” _Because she thinks I’m pathetic._

“Because it sucks that you have to go through that, Guerin.” He didn’t like sympathy, but she said it in a tone that sounded more tough love and less coddling, which helped. It made his pride feel less like it was a balloon being poked with a needle.

“Yeah, well, I could stop if I wanted to.” If he wanted to, he could go on the long journey of recovery. He could choose to heal and to at least try to stop binging and purging, but a big part of him didn’t want to even try because while eating disorders are painful, there’s a sick sacredness to them.

“You don’t want to?” And isn’t that the question driving Michael’s whole disorder. The answer is complicated and messy and conflicting. Michael isn’t sure how to explain his reluctance towards recovery in a way that someone who hasn’t been where he is can understand.

“Part of me does, and part of me doesn’t, and I can’t decide which part I want to listen to.”

“How about choosing the part that makes you happy.”

“That’s the thing. What I do… it makes me feel good just as much as it makes me feel bad. If I don’t do it, I don’t feel right. It takes away my worry, so it’s not really bad other than being bad for my body. Even then, alien bodies are resilient.” _Not that resilient given how I can barely exist anymore. _

“You still need to take care of your body. There’s a difference between feeling good and feeling relieved.” _And I feel neither for more than a few hours at a time because it doesn’t make much to ruin either._

“That sounds like something Alex would say.”

Maria smirked. “Then maybe you should listen.”

“I’ve got too thick of a head to listen. My hat blocks the signals.” They were talking in metaphors now, and it was a lot easier than saying all this stuff outright.

“I bet it does. Maybe it’s time to hang the hat up for a while and see who you are without it.” Michael, at least part of him, knew that he needed change, but he didn’t want the change to be too drastic.

“I don’t think people would recognize me without it.” _I wouldn’t recognize me without it. I’m just a big, stupid cowboy, and if I don’t have my hat, I’m not even that._

“You’re still the same person with or without it. You just look a little different. It won’t hurt to give the hat a rest,” Maria persisted. She was smart, and she understood people. While she couldn’t ever fully understand what Michael was up against, she knew people well enough that she had a pretty good guess. _She’s a good friend to have around. Too bad I pushed her away._

“If only it were that easy.” _The issue is that you have to commit to recovery. You don’t have to commit to disorder. It takes the decision from you. It tells you what you need to do, and it captures you. It holds you against you will, convincing you that what it’s doing is right. You don’t have to choose disorder. It chooses you, and as long as you don’t fight it, it will never leave, but recovery. You have to hold onto recovery. You have to work to make it stay. You have to be vulnerable with it. You have to care for it. You have to give it parts of yourself that sometimes you’d rather have taken. _“I kind of like the way it works.” He likes the way he can hide beneath it and how it shades his head from the hot, shocking blasts of sunlight that would hit his body otherwise. The sun is too bright for people like Michael.

“Just think about it.” _Thinking is about all I do. My head won’t shut up. _

“I’ll be thinking about it all night.” His curls bounced as he chuckled.

She hit his arm gently. “Don’t sass me, mister.”

“It can’t be helped.” The banter was nice. It felt like a return to normal or a day trip to normalcy, at least. _Maybe things can be okay. I just need to kick this monster out of my brain, but I can feel it. It’s getting louder the longer she stays here. I want to binge. I want to purge. I want to let myself lose control one last time. I want to put off being better until tomorrow. Can’t normal wait just a while more?_

Michael looked at the time. _I need to binge already if I need to get home before Alex starts to worry. I don’t need him asking questions. _“I guess you better get going. It’s getting late.”

Maria shrugged, not seeming to mind being with Michael. So few people had ever wanted to stay for him. It warmed his heart to think that she was one of those people. “I can stay if you need me. I didn’t have too much planned.”

Michael shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m cool. It’s probably best if I have some time to think.”

Maria stood, and Michael stood up beside her so he could put away the chairs. He took hers and put them back in their place. Maria lingered, watching him with careful eyes.

“What is it?” he asked. _She might as well get whatever she wants to say over with._

She was unusually hesitant. _Oh, great, I’ve broken her with my confession. She doesn’t know how to behave around me anymore. When will I learn to shut up? _“You aren’t going to do anything when I leave, are you?” _Yes, absolutely. When you leave, there will be nothing left to stop me. _Michael’s already got his mind set on binging and purging, so he’s definitely not going to change his mind.

Michael shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Maria bit her lip. “Call me if you’re not,” her voice was sincere. “And if you ever need to talk, I can keep what you say between us. I can be your friend without reporting back to Alex.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you in a weird position.” She was Alex’s friend before she was his, and Michael didn’t want the boundaries to blend in ways that made anyone uncomfortable, particularly Alex and Maria. Michael was used to being uncomfortable.

“I’m pretty sure that Alex would rather that you have someone to talk to than a spy to report back to him. But whatever makes you feel comfortable. I want you to get better, even if you don’t want that for yourself.”

“Just make sure that you’re there for Alex if he needs to talk. He’s been dealing with this alone for a long time, and I know that he has to bottle a lot of it up. I don’t want to know what you say, but Alex has a lot of shit on his mind.”

“You don’t have to tell me to be a good friend.” She pulled him into a hug, and he wasn’t used to the feeling of someone who wasn’t Alex hugging him. She leaned closer to his ear and spoke in a near whisper. “Life doesn’t always have to hurt so much. It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to have friends and family and love. It’s okay to enjoy the good while still respecting the bad.”

Michael forced a laugh. “You writing a book called _The Bartender’s Guide to Solving Problems the Bottle Can’t_?”

Maria shook her head, giving him an eye roll. “Maybe I should be. Might become a bestseller.”

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy,” Michael replied earnestly.

Maria gave him a knowing look. “That’ll be my first chapter.”

“I can’t wait to read the book,” Michael intoned.

“If you want a book about how to be happy, you’ll be waiting a long time.” _I’ve already waited for a long time. I guess I’ll be waiting a little more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I plan on updating this on Tuesdays. I hope you enjoyed this installment.


	16. Let the Good Days Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex have a nice day.

To his delight, Michael woke up feeling good, so much so that he didn’t even fight the plate of eggs that Alex slid next to his coffee. _I don’t even care. It’s just eggs. They won’t kill me. _He didn’t want to keep living a life of binging and purging, and the best way to break that cycle was to try something new. It had been three days since he had purged, and that was kind of impressive given it had been weeks since he had gone that long.

He didn’t have a lot of days like these. It almost felt supernatural how happy he was. He’d stepped on the scale, and the number hadn’t made him feel much of anything. Yesterday, it had bothered him, but today, it was like he was looking at the whole world differently, and he liked the way it looked.

It felt uncomfortable to not care what he was eating, but the truth was that Michael was in too good of a mood to care. Was it unsettling? Slightly. But was he going to drag himself back into feeling tortured because of a little discomfort? No way. He knew that he had to pack as much good stuff into this good day as he could because he could wake up the next morning and remember how quickly good days went wrong.

Alex gave Michael a confused look, but he didn’t say anything about how easily Michael ate. Probably because he knew that if he did say something, Michael might have clammed up and have started to feel like he should have fretted over the food, so he didn’t mention the food. That had become their policy during mealtimes, and Alex wasn’t sure if it helped, but it provided a stasis. They had so few good days lately that Alex wasn’t going to ruin it by bringing hard to talk about things up.

They ate in silence, but it was an easy silence, not the unsettling kind that usually loomed over their meals. Alex wasn’t sure what was different, but he liked what he was seeing. Maybe the therapy was working, or maybe, it had helped Michael to confess to Maria what was wrong with him.

“You’re in a good mood,” Alex commented as Michael ate the last bit of egg and washed it down with coffee. _This isn’t as hard as it usually is. I barely even thought about eating. It just kind of happened. Is that how normal people look at food? Is eating just a mindless activity that they do three times a day?_

“I was thinking that we could do something fun. Like a date day.” When he woke up feeling good, he knew that he wanted to use the day to work on his relationship. He hadn’t been great to Alex lately, and he needed to start being a better boyfriend.

Alex couldn’t help but smile at that. “That would be good. We haven’t done anything like that in a while. What did you have in mind?” _Just about to ruin my waistline with a bunch of stuff I shouldn’t be doing. _Michael shook the negativity from his head. He couldn’t make it go away altogether, but he didn’t have to listen to it either.

“I was thinking we could go see that stupid horror film that you’ve been wanting to see but won’t admit to liking this afternoon, and then we could go get dinner after.”

“That sounds nice.” Alex smirked, “Even the film I told you looked idiotic. I mean, a sorority of zombies can’t be that interesting.” _Normal. It sounds normal. _“Did you have a particular restaurant in mind?” Michael had already thought that through as he’d been eating and formulating his plan. Normally, he would have thought of restaurants that had low-calorie foods or bathrooms that were easy to purge in, but this time, his first thought was about what Alex might like.

“What was that place you took me to before? The nice one?” He had bad memories from that place, but Alex liked it, and it would be a good challenge for Michael. Test if he could really have one peaceful day.

“_Campanellino_?” Alex asked. “I thought you hated that place, Guerin.” He didn’t hate the place itself. He hated the food. He hated eating. He hated temptation. Restaurants in general just weren’t his thing, and fancy ones tended to have more things to make him nervous about.

“Yeah, I think that was it. I didn’t hate it. I just wasn’t used to it, so maybe we could try going there again. I think it’ll be better this time” Michael thought that it might be nice to have one nice meal that didn’t have to be about his eating disorder. He woke up on the right side of the bed, so what better time was there to tackle his issues? His therapist would surely be proud. Hell, he was proud.

“And you think you’re up for that?” Truthfully, he didn’t feel up to it. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to let go of his disorder. There were still ways in which he loved being sick. It almost felt like he’d be losing himself if he abandoned his behaviors altogether, but he could pretend to be someone else for just this one day.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Right now it feels okay, but as it gets closer, the gravity of this might sneak up on me. I might not feel as easygoing about it.”

“I like the sound of honesty in the morning,” Alex quipped. He looked lighter because of Michael’s mood, and something of how they used to be was shining through. “Seriously, though, if it’s not okay, we can always try something else.”

“No, I’m doing this. This one day I can put all the shitty feelings on the back burner. I’m not going to ruin today just because it gets hard. I haven’t felt this good in, like, ever, so if you think that I’m going to waste this mood, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“I’m just saying that we can still have a nice date day without doing anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Michael didn’t want it just to nice. He wanted it to be perfect. He didn't’ want to have to think about food or calories or weight. He wanted those things to exist without them swaying his every decision. _I deserve that autonomy, and I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to have it. I’m not going to let my doubts destroy this one thing that I want out of this day—that semblance of being okay._

“Everything makes me uncomfortable. That’s the thing. What I need to be happy is to learn to live with the discomfort,” and he’s known that for a long time. He just never felt like taking charge of that knowledge before, and he’s not sure why he feels like it now. Today, Michael was being courageous, and he wasn’t going to let his messed up brain stand in his way.

“It will get easier.” It had to get easier. If it didn’t, nothing was ever going to change. He’d be sick and stuck in his cycle for the rest of his miserable life. It getting easier was the only motivation Micahel had to push through.

“I know, which is why I can’t keep avoiding what’s hard because it will never get easier if I don’t practice being uncomfortable.”

Alex exhaled, the tension dropping from his shoulders. “I like that attitude.”

For the rest of the morning, they hung out around the house, and they finished up chores that they needed to get done before the romantic part of the day began. By the time the movie came around, they were both in good spirits, laughing and sharing easy banter.

When they got to the movie, Michael paid for the tickets, and he even grabbed a bag of popcorn and a soda for them to share because he figured that if he was in a defiant mood and if he was going to challenge his demons, he was going to do it the fullest. _There’s no time to take it easy. I’m diving in headfirst and hoping that I can learn to swim. _As the ads played, Michael took a bite of the popcorn. He closed his eyes and took in the flavors. He could taste the butter. The popcorn was practically drenched in it, and he tried not to let the taste of fat make him feel fat. _But it does. I can feel myself gaining weight, and I don’t like it. _He pushed the negative thoughts away as best as he could and returned his focus to the taste.“Oh my god, that’s good.” He tentatively took another piece and put it in his mouth. “Still good,” he verified.

“Yeah?” Alex said, grabbing a handful of popcorn and putting it into his mouth. “It’s delicious,” he agreed, and being able to share food with someone felt so intimate. _I feel naked and disarmed, and I don’t know why._

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve had popcorn.” It had probably been during a binge, but it wasn’t a food that he liked to purge. In theory, it should have been easy to puke up, but for whatever reason, he’d always had trouble with it, so he’d stopped eating it. “It’s nice.” He took a sip of the soda, which was sugared, and Michael honestly didn’t think it tasted as good as the diet soda, but it still made him feel like a rebel. “This soda is not so nice. It tastes like cavities.”

Alex laughed, “Yeah, but isn’t that the fun?”

“I prefer the taste of chemicals, thank you very much.” It wasn’t even a calorie thing or health thing. He was just so used to the fake sweeteners that regular sugar tasted weird outside a binge. Even when he binged, he drank diet soda.

The movie was stupid, Alex and Michael could both admit that, but it had been fun. They’d laughed, and while neither would admit it, there had been jump-scares that had them both jolting from their seats just a bit.

“That was nice,” Michael said as they emerged from the theater and their eyes adjusted to the light.

“It was. I told you that movie would be good.” It was nice to be joking around. They both felt light and able to take on anything. The day was young, and being able to spend so much time together was a novelty that Michael wanted to make a norm.

Michael chuckled. “It wasn’t good, but I still had fun.”

Alex gave Michael a knowing look, “You haven’t smiled that much in weeks.” His face muscles were hurting from all the smiling that he had been doing. Usually, it was other muscles that were sore, so it was a nice change. _Is this what being happy feels like?_

“Fine. I liked it, but I won’t say that it was good because objectively all those movies are trash.”

“Sometimes things are better when you don’t take them too seriously,” Alex decided as they got into Michael’s truck.

“Yeah, maybe that’s true.” He turned the keys and the ignition sputtered on. “Ready for dinner?”

“Are you?” Alex’s eyebrows were furrowed, and Michael hated that he was the reason for that response. He wasn’t sure that Alex would ever stop worrying that Michael was going to puke until he died. _And maybe he has some valid worries... but it’s not like I feel that sick. I’m fine. I just do weird things sometimes._

“I’m feeling great,” Michael said, and he meant it. He wasn’t having any second thoughts, and it honestly felt too good to be true. Things couldn’t be this easy. He couldn’t just have a nice day with his boyfriend without fretting over the food. That wasn’t how his life worked, but that was how it was working today. He felt light and free. Like he could do anything that he wanted to.

He couldn’t deny that things got a little harder when they actually sat down for a meal. Michael was overwhelmed with all the menu choices, so he defaulted to Alex’s suggestions. After all, he didn’t want to start obsessively comparing menu items based on how good they would taste, how many calories they were, and how easy they would be to bring back up because those weren’t considerations he was taking into considerations during their date day. He wasn’t going to ruin it. He was going to eat what was put in front of him, and he was going to be normal for just a little while.

He took the thought of eating a full meal without purging in stride. He tried not to think about how many calories he would be forced to eat because thinking about that was only going to make him second guess himself, and if he was second-guessing himself, he probably wasn’t going to be able to give Alex the attention that he deserved, so he needed to control himself and keep the monster inside in his ugly, little box.

_I can get through this. It’s just one meal. I can always do better tomorrow. It’s fine. One meal won’t kill me. I need to do this so that Alex is happy. If I can’t make some sacrifices for his happiness, I’m a shitty partner. I’m a shitty partner anyway, but maybe I can be better than I have been in the past. Michael Guerin 2.0._

It didn’t matter how much Michael wanted to change. Little things were still bound to trip him up. _But this is a good day, and I’m being rebellious, and nothing can stop me from eating this one meal in peace. _

“You okay?” Alex asked when Michael had been obviously spiraling. Michael cursed himself for being so obvious.

“I’m great. Excited for the food to come out.” Excited, anxious, a little scared. _It’s going to be good. One meal doesn’t have to be something that I regret for a whole week or even a minute. It’s up to me how I let this food influence me. I’m in charge of how I respond to stimuli._

“It’s okay if you’re not. It won’t ruin the day. It’s been nice, and if you’re struggling, that niceness doesn’t get thrown out the window.”

“I’m fine. Really. I’m anxious, but it’s not anything that I can’t handle. I want this to be good.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Let’s talk about you. I feel like we haven’t done enough of that lately. I miss hearing about you.” It’s not like they didn’t still talk, but everything had not related to eating disorders had become muted and gray, and Michael wanted to bring the color back and the noise.

Alex grinned. “You won’t once I’m done talking.”

“You could talk for days without stop, and I wouldn’t get bored,” and _goddammit _that’s sappier than Michael intended, but it’s also so true.

Michael distracted himself with chatter, and he focused the conversation on Alex, asking him about everything that had been going on in his life that Michael had been too predisposed to notice. Alex seemed happy to talk about work and what all their friends were up to, and Alex was wise enough to keep talking through the meal so that Michael could eat without having to stop and think. The conversation was a great distraction from the thoughts that wanted to poke their way through the good day veil.

When Alex asked tentatively about dessert, Michael nearly lost it. Whatever progress he had made felt like it was no progress at all. A meal he could manage, but a meal and dessert felt like too much, but dessert was normal. It wasn’t at all weird for a couple to have dessert when they went for a special night out. Lots of people had their meals and their desserts too, but to Micahel, that felt like a reason to purge more than a way to have fun. _I can’t ruin this. No eating disorders in the fancy restaurant. I’ve gotten this far. I can’t give up now just because the stakes are higher. I need to do this, even if it sucks because I need to show Alex that I can do better._

Michael had lived in denial about his problem for too long, and if anyone asked him about it, he’d probably still deny it or at least reduce the seriousness, but it’s not like there wasn’t a part of him that knew what he was doing to himself. No amount of denial could fully erase the knowledge that puking for relief wasn’t acceptable. On good days, he could admit that what he was doing was sick. He could acknowledge, at least in the littered sanctity of his own mind, that what he had wasn’t something that people lived with. It was something that they died with. _I need to learn to live without this, so I can start my life. I’ve been avoiding the real world for too long. Maybe I don’t belong on Earth, but killing myself isn’t going to make me belong. Ruining my relationship isn’t going to make me feel secure. Running away isn’t going to change anything. It’s just going to sabotage any of the good things that I manage to do._

_ I’m not going to live in my bulimic wasteland forever. Because that’s what it is. I try to dress it up and call it a coping mechanism, but it’s just a wasteland, a filthy, brain-melting wasteland. It numbs me, and then it stabs me with a million pine needles until slowly but surely I’ve bled out. There’s no living with this condition. There’s only letting it rob you of yourself. I’m not me when I’m binging. I’m some other creature, a monster that doesn’t care about the things that I should care about._

_I want to be better. Not always, but today, I want to be better. I want to feel good and live life without worrying whether I’m wasting all my time. I can’t avoid living forever. Someday, I’m going to have to start whether I want to or not. I’m going to have to take a few chances. I’m going to have to learn to be okay with myself._

After dinner, they went home and spent some quality time with one another. It felt so easy. Michael and Alex were relaxing on the couch, acting as though everything was normal. It felt like how things used to be. Maybe even better, so nothing should have gone wrong, but as the day rolled to a close, some switch flipped, and what had been fine started to feel bad.

He wasn’t sure why he did. The plan had been only to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth before going to bed, but then, he’d seen the scale sitting there, and he’d had that same old irresistible urge to know what his number was. He told himself that he was just doing it because he was curious. He told himself that whatever the number was that he wouldn’t be upset, but when he saw the number, he was upset. He felt his heart sink at the dread of how much of him still existed. There was so much that heaviness that he could never binge and purge away.

_I’m such a useless fatty. I need to get off this scale and take care of that awful dinner I had. _The voice in his head was becoming louder, and it had been hours since he’d eaten, but that didn’t matter because purging whatever was left in his stomach could provide some relief. If he didn’t do something, he wouldn’t be able to sleep, and he’d be thinking about the hugeness of his stomach all night. _I shouldn't’ give in, but what choice do I have. I’ll just purge and be done with it. But then I’ll ruin my good day. I’ll also feel better. Don’t do it. Do it. Don’t do it. Do it. I need a flower so I can pick its petals and decide to purge or not purge._

When Michael gets out of the bathroom, Alex was in bed and looking at Michael with concern. “I guess you heard that.”

Alex sounded disappointed. “It would be hard not to.”

Michael sighed, getting into bed next to Alex. His voice was raspy. “Sorry I ruined our good day.”

Alex pulled him into a hug, looking at the clock next to the bed. “It’s after midnight. You didn’t ruin our good day.”

“No, I guess not. I ruined a new day just barely into it.”

Alex shook his head. “No, you didn’t ruin it. You’re just having a bad hour. There’s still twenty-three hours that you can get right.” And maybe that was what getting better was. Getting twenty-three hours right after getting one wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. It feels good to finally update.


	17. Alien vs Self

His therapy session had just ended, and Michael walked out of Wendy’s office, passing by a man whose face was collapsed in on itself and frustrated. Michael smiled at him, and the man’s eyes lifted slightly, brightening for half a moment. Because Michael had learned that the connection between humans and aliens alike wasn’t something he could push aside. He used to be afraid of sharing a smile with the people around him. He worried that smile would leave him vulnerable and open to attack, so he never smiled. He kept as much as he could within, and with no place to go, it bubbled over in streams of vomit and steps on the scale. Binging and purging was only ever a reprieve from the emotional turmoil in the pit of Michael’s stomach.

His life was better now, and Michael didn’t feel heavy anymore. The weight of the world and the whole damn universe wasn’t on his shoulders anymore. The pressures, the hardships— they hadn’t changed, but Michael was learning to manage them and to understand that his mind could be clear and unburdened. There wasn’t this whole other side of himself that he had to hide. Binging and purging didn’t stomp on his chest like a troupe of tap dancers. The shame was out in the open, hanging like mist in the air rather than feeling like a steel block in his stomach. He could be himself without being hit, yelled at, or ignored. Michael could exist without trying to make himself disappear. He could stay on Earth. He could let himself make mistakes and learn how to be better.

The drive home felt not like another mundane activity. It had a purpose. Everything was more exciting now that Michael was in recovery. Each drive was a chance to steer himself to a better place. Every day was a chance to revive the fun that had died when he had his eating disorder. He was learning to live again, and he’d never had so much fun, but of course, there was still so much hardship.

Recovery wasn’t easy, even now that it had been six months. Michael still slipped up sometimes. He binged or he purged or he stepped on the scale when he knew he was better off not knowing or caring about the number. Getting better wasn’t just one therapy session. He was skeptical that he could get better, but by the third week, he started to see that maybe his life didn’t have to be hell. He also realized that he would have to fight like hell to get back on track. He had to talk through his feelings, admit truths that he’d rather avoid, and learn to manage the heaps of pain inside of him. He had to take days hour by hour sometimes. Other times, he had to remind himself that one mistake didn’t mean he had to spiral. Recovery never meant being perfect. It was learning to be more flexible in the face of hardship. It was resisting the urges that felt inevitable. It was waking up each day and trying to do better.

When Michael got home, he opened the door pulled Alex into his arms, happy to be near the person who had been through his side at all. Michael was ravenous, but this time, not for food. He was hungry for the love of his man and the joy of having that love returned to him. He was hungry for using his mind in new ways. He was hungry for deepened friendships. He was hungry to discover new parts of himself.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, giving Michael a concerned smile, but even Alex’s concerned smile was less heavy now. He would always worry; he’d always want to make sure that Michael was okay, but they could both breathe in relief because the worst was over, and they knew how to deal with the challenges that would inevitably come as they went into the future together.

Micheal nodded, “I just needed a hug.” He whispered into Alex’s ear. _It’s okay to have needs._ “We’re getting better every day, and they were. Both Michael and Alex were working on improving themselves and their mindsets, and they were also trying to work better as a team. They’d had their fair share of tumult, and they’d both treated each other in ways that the other didn’t deserve in the past, but those behaviors had been fueled by trauma, which was something they could heal from. They’d both realized it was okay to get help because that was the only way they could sustain a love that burned so hot and left them more vulnerable than felt comfortable.

Michael could never change that he was an alien. There would always be something different about him, parts of himself that he couldn’t reconcile with how he felt, but despite all the unknowns and questions he still had, he was learning to live with himself. He was learning to get up in the morning and see someone loveable in the mirror. Sometimes, he still saw an alien, a strange creature from a land that was far away. Mostly, though, he felt like himself. He might not have been human, but he was still a person. He could think, he could feel, and he could love when he let himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I hope at least one person enjoyed reading this and wants to see where this goes. Thanks for reading. Hope you'll stick around for more! Comment if you wish to leave your thoughts. I love hearing them!


End file.
